


The Lost Malfoy

by iStiz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (non-graphic), Adoption, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Post-War, Relationship of Convenience, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 49,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15066806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iStiz/pseuds/iStiz
Summary: Draco is adrift after the war, but he's not the only Malfoy who's lost.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this because I was researching my family tree and found out that my great grandfather had a brother, and I suddenly had a family where I was always told there was none! Also, adoption is very near and dear to my heart.
> 
> I mean no disrespect to JK Rowling and I promise to treat her characters kindly (they belong to her, after all).

Draco knows he’s lucky, all things considered.

His father was sent through the Veil as punishment for his crimes before and during the war. Most of the other Death Eaters received the same after their trials. Even Voldemort’s body was pushed through. It was deemed the only way to be sure they would never come back to power. Draco took the Dark Mark and he knows this should have been his fate as well, but Harry spoke to the Wizengamot on his behalf and so he was given a lighter sentence: two years in Azkaban.

Except that Azkaban was still in ruins from when Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters escaped. So the Ministry took over a maximum security facility that had once been used by muggles before it was abandoned. With the dementors all banished, a new branch of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was created to maintain the facility. So even though it’s still a prison, it’s nothing like the Azkaban of the past.

That doesn’t mean Draco enjoys his time there. Most days he just lays on his cot or the floor of his cell and stares up to the ceiling. Cliché as it may be, he marks the passage of time on the wall of his cell. “ _What was the point of all this?”_ Draco thinks to himself during his imprisonment. _“I spend 730 days locked away and then what am I to do? It’s not as though anyone will give me a job. I didn’t even finish school! No one will want to teach me, either. I’d be better off staying here forever.”_

When he’s not dreading the future, he thinks of his mother. Harry also spoke for her and since she does not have the Dark Mark, she remains free. She doesn’t come to visit him, and Draco doesn’t know if that’s because she isn’t allowed to or because she doesn’t want to see him. He isn’t sure which one he hopes is the real reason.

* * *

Two years go by. Two years of abuse from the guards and “accidentally” overturned food trays (but he’s so numb to it all now; it hasn’t fazed him in a long time). Then one day his cell is opened and he’s taken back to the Ministry. He’s told that he’s scheduled to speak with Minister Shacklebolt himself.

“Mister Malfoy, do have a seat,” the Minister says as soon as he’s brought inside the office. His voice is booming but there’s a small smile on his face that seems out of place considering the circumstances. Draco sits but he doesn’t relax, even into the softness of the leather chair. Shacklebolt steps around his desk and hands Draco a garment bag, seemingly out of nowhere. “This is from your mother. She provided us with proper clothes for you.”

“Why?” Draco asks with as little incredulity in his voice as possible.

“We find it easier for some to transition back into civilian life if they are showered and have a clean change of their own clothes. So, if you’ll follow me, please, I’ll take you to where the bath is.”

Draco does as he’s told (asked?) and has never been more thankful in his life for the water pressure the Ministry maintains in their showers. He scrubs at his skin until it’s pink and nearly raw and smelling sweetly of the floral soap provided. As always, he closes his eyes when washing the inside of his left arm.

When he’s thoroughly clean, Draco leaves the seclusion of the bath and exits back into the corridor where Shacklebolt is waiting on him. “Much better! Much better,” he booms. “Come. Follow me and we’ll talk about your future.”

 _“Future? What future could I possibly have?”_ Draco thinks to himself, though he chooses to stay silent. He finds himself yet again being directed to sit across from the Minister. This time, however, he can stand the smell of himself and feels like a human being for the first time in a long time. Maybe Shacklebolt was on to something with that whole shower thing.

“Tell me, Mister Malfoy, what do you plan to do now that you’re a free man?”

“I-I’m not sure.” He tries not to stutter but he just can’t help it. He clears his throat in hopes of sounding more confident. “But if there’s a way I can begin to make amends, then I want to do it. I’ll take any opportunity you have.”

A real smile graces Shacklebolt’s face. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. As it turns out, I have an opening for a volunteer position at the Children’s Centre that I think would be perfect for you.”

Even being in prison hasn’t stopped Draco from hearing about the facility Potter used his immense wealth to open. His eyes widen at the prospect of working for the Savior. “All due respect, sir, but I don’t know if that’s the best idea. Potter and I have a…contentious history.”

“I know all about your feud during your school days.”

“It’s more than that! We fought on opposite sides of a war!”

“Did you though?” When Draco’s face twists up in confusion, Minister Shacklebolt laughs. “I was there at the trials. I heard the testimonies. None of them painted you out to be a war criminal.” Then he leans in conspiratorially and lowers his voice, “Just between us, the Wizengamot was split on even sending you to prison and I voted in your favor. I was not so far out of adolescence during the first war and I remember what it was like to be young and put into positions I wasn’t ready for. I understand you, Mister Malfoy. I know that you’re more than the mark on your arm.”

Draco is clenching his teeth to fight back the tears. He just isn’t prepared for the kindness being shown to him. “What would I be doing?” he asks once he’s sure he can speak without crying.

“The centre provides many services to children both wizarding and muggle that have been affected by the war. But there’s one position they can never seem to keep filled for long, and I think you’d be the perfect fit.”

“What’s the catch?”

“There is a group within the Ministry that believes you have not yet paid your dues. Community service hours would go a long way to prove to them that you have.”

“And if I refuse?”

Shacklebolt leans back in his chair and smirks. “I have a feeling you won’t, but you’re no longer under Ministry custody and therefore cannot be forced to do anything. Why don’t you go home and think on it. Your mother is looking forward to your return.”

That’s the second time he’s mentioned Narcissa. “Is she okay? She never…” he trails off, unable to finish due to his recurring fear that she’d given up on him.

“She was denied visitation rights- again, against my wishes- and it’s been hard on her. I stopped by every so often to check on her. I think having you back will help a lot.”

“Thank you,” Draco says sincerely. “I don’t think I could ever repay you for your kindness. And forgive me if I say, it’s quite unexpected.”

“Not everyone is out to get you, Mister Malfoy, remember that. And there’s no need to pay me back, just pay it forward. Pass it along. That’s what I want from you.”

* * *

The Manor is eerie. Draco hates it the moment he steps through the floo. He calls for his mother but gets no response, so he goes off in search of her. He eventually finds Narcissa in her sitting room. She’s on the settee by the window, staring off into the back garden. She hugs Draco when he finally gets her attention, but there’s something off about her smile as though it doesn’t quite reach across her face.

They have supper (a simple soup that Narcissa tells him is a staple of her diet now) in the sitting room to avoid going into the dining room. Then Draco retires to his rooms, just glad to be sleeping in a real bed for the first time in over two years. In the morning his mother is right back to her spot by the window. She doesn’t say much but Draco can’t really blame her. Every time he tries to start a conversation with her, he can’t think of anything useful to say. The first few days together are filled with a tense silence that he just can’t seem to break. When the centre finally contacts him about coming in to start his hours, he’s relieved.

* * *

Draco is nervous at first about volunteering at the Children’s Centre, especially when he finds out exactly what position the Minister hand-picked him for. But in no time at all he finds himself enjoying it. He works mostly with the older children. The ones who saw the same things he saw and overheard the conversations that he was a part of. He talks with them openly about what it was like living under the same roof as Voldemort. What it was like to have a Death Eater as a father and to be groomed as one himself. How it felt when the Dark Mark burned into his flesh. This is actually the one place that Draco feels comfortable enough to roll up his sleeves and expose his arm. He’s not sure how much he’s helping them but they always seem grateful when he arrives for another shift.

The centre is often understaffed, and that’s the exact reason that one day Draco is called in early. Lisa Turpin greets him at the front desk. Conversation is a bit awkward between them at first, as they had several years of Astronomy and Ancient Runes together at Hogwarts, but she is kind and gives him simple directions to the room where the younger children meet. Draco thanks her and then prepares himself.

He walks cautiously into the room where the children are playing and the first thing that strikes him is how _small_ they are. Draco can’t help but feel personally responsible for the ones with no families. He mostly colors pictures with them or plays with toys on the floor but at least doing that he can still feel useful in some small way. It gets easier the longer he’s with them, and the next time he looks up at the clock he’s surprised by how much time has passed.

Just as he’s about to leave the playroom to get lunch, a little girl stops him. She looks up at Draco with wide, grey eyes and he’s instantly startled. He’s seen those eyes staring back at him before. How is that possible? Sure, there are only so many colors that eyes can be, but take Potter for instance. He has ‘green’ eyes- that much is indisputable- but Draco has never seen another set of green eyes look as clear and vibrant. They put to shame every crisp, tart apple hanging on the tree. Even now he can imagine the way they used to sparkle in the candlelight of the Great Hall during a feast. So saying that this girl’s eyes are grey is, in fact, a lie. What he really means is that they are the exact same molten silver as his own.

“Umm, hello, little girl,” Draco says stiltedly. This is yet another reason why he chooses to work with the older children; at least _they_ can hold a conversation.

“Hi,” she responds around the fingers in her mouth.

A few strands of hair are stuck between her fingers and Draco carefully extracts them, cringing the entire time. Yet as he does, he can’t help but recognize the beautiful mix of brown and blonde so different from his own yet so familiar. “There you are. You have very lovely hair.”

“Thank you.” She finally pulls the fingers out of her mouth and Draco watches the drool carefully, wishing he had his wand so that he could cast _impervious_ on her clothes and his own. “Wha’s that?” she asks, pointing to where to the Dark Mark is peeking out from the bottom of his cuff.

He tugs his sleeve down. “Just a mark. Nothing to worry about, sweetie.”

Like most children, the girl accepts Draco’s easy answer and her attention moves elsewhere. “Play with me?” she asks, already grabbing onto his hand still hanging at his side.

Draco lets himself be pulled across the room so where large bins are overflowing with toys. She drops to the ground so he follows, crossing his legs neatly and waiting for further instructions. She hands him a little stuffed horse and says, “He’s called Len.”

“That’s a lovely name,” Draco forces himself to say. And then he sees an opening to learn more about this girl and asks, “What’s yours?”

“I’m ‘Lara.”

“Laura?” Draco presumes.

She shakes her head. “‘ _L_ ara,” she says, putting more emphasis on the beginning this time.

“Elara?” Draco guesses again.

“Yes” she says primly, looking at him intensely with those eyes once again.

“It’s nice to meet you, Elara. I’m Draco.”

“Are you my friend now?”

How could he say no to that? “I suppose I am.”

“Yay!”

She launches herself at Draco, wrapping her little arms around his neck and holding him tightly. Draco laughs and pats her back but his laughter dies when she won’t let go. Finally he pries her off of him, but she doesn’t go far. Elara settles down on his lap with her toys. She hands Draco the horse and the two play together so long that his legs fall asleep. (It’s completely worth it to see the smile on her face.)

The trouble comes when it’s time for Draco to leave. First, Elara’s face scrunches up. And while Draco may not have much experience with children, even he knows what that means. He tries to stop the tears before they start by waving his hands and frantically shushing her. In hindsight, not the best move, but it was the first thing that came to mind. When that doesn’t work he then picks up her slight frame and rocks her back and forth. Elara wraps herself around him and holds on for dear life.

Draco tries to remove her but she just won’t budge, so next he tries reasoning with her. “Elara, sweetheart, I’ll be back again soon.”

“Tomorrow?” she asks hopefully.

He knows he shouldn’t promise things that he can’t follow through with, but after weighing his options he decides there are worse things. “I promise.”

She reluctantly loosens her grip and lets Draco lower her to the ground, though she remains holding onto his pant leg until the last possible moment when he walks through the doors.

Thankfully, Lisa is more than happy to have him return the next day so he doesn’t have to renege on his promise. He thanks her but she waves it off. “Elara hasn’t connected with someone like that in all the time she’s been here. You are welcome back whenever you want.”

“Even though I’m…”

“You’ve more than proven yourself.”

Draco isn’t so sure he believes her but he’s just glad he can be there for Elara.

* * *

He returns the next day and the next and for the rest of the week. Each afternoon when it is time for him to go, he has to practically peel Elara off of him but she is overjoyed each morning when he comes back. Draco is dreading Friday afternoon because he won’t be there over the weekend and he knows she’ll have a particularly strong reaction to that news.

Of all the people to come up with a solution, it’s Dennis Creevey that rescues him. Draco has seen him around the centre, often working with the younger children but also participating in the therapy group for those who lost siblings during the war. Dennis offers to take a photograph of the two of them on Friday afternoon. That way Elara will have something to hold onto over the weekend and also Draco can have a memento to take with him too.

Elara jumps up and down cheering at the very idea and then stretches her arms up so that Draco can lift her onto his hip. She smiles so big that Draco just can’t look away from her. He sees a flash and realizes that Dennis already took the photo. “I wasn’t ready,” he says, just a little perturbed.

Dennis just shakes his head and hands over two identical squares. “Trust me, you both were perfect.”

The photograph _is_ perfect, Draco has to admit. “Thank you,” he says in an awed voice without looking up from it.

Elara must like it as well because she wriggles down from Draco’s side and rushes over to hug Dennis’s legs. He tells them both it was nothing, he’s all too happy to help them out.

* * *

That night, over a dinner that his mother simply pushes around her plate, Draco tells her about Elara. He figured Narcissa would brighten at the news but if anything she pulls further into herself. He decides to show her the picture in hopes that Elara’s joy will spread to her as well. But when he slides the photograph across the table Narcissa’s spoon drops to the floor with a clatter. She is up and out of her chair before Draco can even blink. “Mother!” he shouts after her but she doesn’t even slow down.

Draco finds her the next morning, still in her bed. She’s cold and unmoving. A note is lying on her chest. His hand is shaking so much that he’s amazed he can even read it.

> My Dearest Draco,
> 
> I can never forgive myself for what I’ve done and so I do not expect you to forgive me either. Elara is your sister. Though I did not give her a name when I gave her up, I would recognize those eyes anywhere.
> 
> Know that it was not an easy thing to do, but it was the safest thing for her. The Dark Lord had just returned and I feared for all of our lives. She came while you were at school and not even your father knew. I only wish that I could have protected you as I did her. I am truly sorry for letting him claim you. I should have done a better job as your mother.
> 
> If there are any gods looking over us, I shall see you again one day my sweet boy. Take care of Elara in any way you can. You’re all she has now. And please don’t blame yourself for what I’ve done.
> 
> Your mother,
> 
> Narcissa Black Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekly updates!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love your comments! Keep them coming :)

Draco stands in the east garden, underneath the large bluebell tree. It’s raining, and isn’t that just fitting for Narcissa’s funeral? Draco smooths out his black robes as a small group of people walk up the lane towards him. He can spot Minister Shacklebolt straightaway because of his dark skin and tall stature. He’s flanked by a few Ministry employees- the new insignia on their robes giving them away- and what appears to be a few Weasleys (if the hair is anything to go by). There’s someone else but they’re at the back of the crowd and cannot be seen clearly. Draco has no time to question their attendance because then Professor McGonagall apparates in just a few metres from where he’s standing.

“Mister Malfoy,” she greets solemnly. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Empty platitudes are the last thing Draco wants to hear but he has enough manners to pretend like the phrase doesn’t make him want to scream. “Thank you, Professor.”

She pats him on the arm as she steps closer. “Kingsley told me you just wanted something simple. Is that right?”

“Yes. And thank you, again, for coming on such short notice. I wanted something proper before I just…” A lump forms in his throat making him unable to go on, so he gestures to where a grave has been hollowed out.

“Just let me take care of it from here.”

McGonagall is the one to greet the other guests, though Draco does nod acceptance of their condolences. Besides the Minister there’s Arthur and Bill Weasley (though Draco doesn’t remember the younger one’s first name), Elphias Doge and Hestia Jones (the latter of whom recently made the news when she became the youngest person to fill an open seat in the Wizengamot), and none other than Harry Potter himself. He gives Draco a knowing look and says, “It’s awful this is happening to you.”

There’s something about the way he knows Potter means it. His words are more than an empty gesture. Draco finds himself unable to speak again but wants to show how grateful he truly is for the kindness, so he holds out his hand. Harry looks down at his hand and then back up at Draco. Recognition and something almost like a smile registers in his eyes. Harry shakes his hand firmly once and then moves to stand beside the Weasleys.

Professor McGonagall clears her throat and then begins her simple memorial service. She speaks of Narcissa's time at Hogwarts, and Draco remembers that of course his mother would have had McGonagall. Then she talks about how much Narcissa loved Draco. The words sound so much like her letter that his ears stop hearing them. All he can hear is a wooshing noise like water rushing through a tap. A large, warm hand settles on his shoulder and he realizes he’s crying. He looks up at the Minister through the corner of his eye but his gaze is focused forward, as though to give Draco the privacy to grieve while simultaneously reminding him he’s not alone.

Draco pinches his eyes closed when it comes time to lower the body into the grave. That’s when he feels another hand slide into his from the other side. He doesn’t have to look; somehow he just knows it’s Potter. Draco doesn’t know what he did to deserve anyone showing up today, and a part of him just wants to be alone, but he can’t help but be thankful they’re here.

Shacklebolt gives Draco’s shoulder a squeeze and then removes his hand. “It’s over,” Potter whispers from his right and then slowly slips his own hand free.

“Thank you,” Draco whispers back, blinking his eyes open but not looking anywhere but down at his own feet.

Everyone leaves just as quickly as they arrived and Draco is left alone. He drops to his knees at the foot of the mound of dirt. A wreath of white narcissus flowers are placed at the foot of the stone. He throws his head back and lets loose a wild scream, uncaring of the rain falling into his nose and mouth. It feels good to let himself go so he does it again. He screams again and again until his throat is raw and there’s no sound coming out anymore.

And that’s when he feels his magic thrumming in his fingertips. Draco’s never done wandless magic but now he thinks he could set the entire world on fire with his power. He channels his sorrow, imagining it moving from his core and down his arms, and with all the same energy he was using to scream he lets his magic free. The resulting shockwave cracks the trunk of the bluebell tree and shakes its branches so violently that leaves fall all around him; grass is ripped from its roots; birds and bugs are blown away by the sheer force of it.

Draco is panting, still on his knees with his arms stretched out to the sides, completely unaware of a presence watching him from underneath an invisibility cloak.

* * *

He doesn’t go back to the Children’s Centre. He can’t bear to look at Elara because he knows all he’ll see looking back is his mother. He stays curled up on his parents’ bed, only leaving to use the toilet. After two days his stomach starts to cramp and his joints hurt. After three, he stops caring.

* * *

“Oh, Draco. What have you done to yourself?” A soft voice coos as a hand strokes through his hair.

His family has never been religious (outside of his father’s teachings about the ancient gods), but through his deliria Draco thinks perhaps this is an angel. He blinks his eyes and tries to focus on the figure but all he sees is light. He groans and pinches them closed again.

The voice laughs, though in commiseration rather than cruelty. “I know it’s hard, but you have to try.”

 _“Try what?”_ Draco attempts to say, but the words come out as nothing more than a groan.

The hands are back and he is being helped into a seated position. Then pillows are shoved behind his back to hold him upright, since he doesn’t seem to be able to do it on his own. “There we are. Now let’s open your mouth so can drink this.”

“What?” he manages to croak out.

“It’s a hydration potion.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re dehydrated,” the voice says as though it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Draco lolls his head to the side and lets his mouth hang open. The potion is poured down his throat and it’s about all he can do to swallow but at least he can do it on his own. Then the pillows are removed and he’s lying flat again. He feels the tingle of someone else’s magic running over his skin and once again tries to focus on who- or what- is helping him.

The first thing he can distinguish is long, flowing blonde hair. Some parts are plaited and others curled and there appears to be actual flowers woven throughout. Though she’s dressed all in white, Draco no longer thinks her to be an angel. In fact, he thinks he recognizes the round face and button nose. And when her bright, blue eyes and kind smile are focused on him, he’s sure of it. “Lovegood?”

“Your speech sounds much better now.”

“What are you-”

“Just relax.” She runs her hand through his hair once again, only this time Draco can feel how oily it is and he ponders why she isn’t perturbed by that fact. Though, now that he thinks of it, Lovegood was never known for her common sense. “We’ll let that potion have some time to do its job and then see what sort of food you can keep down.”

Just the thought of eating makes Draco’s stomach churn. “No food.”

“Don’t worry about your cupboards,” Luna misinterprets his refusal. “Harry went to the market and bought a few things. He’s actually quite a good cook.”

“Potter?”

“Of course. He’s been watching over you.”

“What??”

He moves to sit up but Luna sets a firm hand on his chest until he stops. Then she hums a tune as though to sooth his agitation. “Lisa was worried when you didn’t show up for your hours, and then Elara was inconsolable when you didn’t come back. Harry happened to be there with Teddy and said he’d stop by to check on you. He found you and came straightaway to get me.”

Luna helps him sit up again and has him drink another potion. Draco makes a face as it goes down thick and sour. “It’s a nutrition potion. I’m sorry it tastes so bad, but it does the trick. Though you will have to have another one in a few hours.”

Draco has so many questions, like: Why was Potter creeping around his home? How could he do it undetected? And then why did he run to Lovegood of all people? That last one can at least be asked.

“No offense,” he says to Luna in a tone that suggests he really doesn’t care if she’s offended or not, “but why _you_?”

“Harry always comes to me for his potions.” When it seems like he is still confused, she goes on. “I’m still studying, but I’m well on my way to becoming a full-fledged Potions Master. My focus is on healing potions.”

He can’t believe it. They were never in the same potions class at Hogwarts because she’s a year younger, but surely Snape would have said something had she been an outstanding student like Draco was.

It’s as though she can read his mind when she says, “You’ve been gone a long time, Draco. Things have changed.”

“I suppose you're right.”

* * *

Luna stays for three more days. The first day is filled with forcing Draco to drink so much water he feels like he’s going to float away, but it’s better than choking down the hydration potions.

The second day she forces him to get up and bathe. When he’s out of the bath, Draco finds the master bedroom completely cleaned. The linens have been stripped from the bed, the curtains have been drawn back, and the window is open to air out the room. A pair of muggle joggers and a cotton t-shirt are setting out for him and though Draco turns up his nose at first, he has to admit that they are quite comfortable. He follows his nose to the kitchen where Luna is boiling something up on the hob. It’s a delicious broth (courtesy of the Savior himself) that Draco has to be reminded to take slow since he hasn’t eaten real food in almost a week. They spend the rest of the day alternating cleaning and resting.

The third day finds them outside. Draco avoids looking at the tree under which his mother is buried, and Luna seems to understand. They spend their time wandering the gardens looking for any sign of the animals that once inhabited the property (before the constant dark magic drove them away). Draco is glad to see that many have returned. Over dinner- more substantial than the day before- Luna tells him that she’ll be leaving that night. He thanks her for everything and is surprised to find himself meaning it.

“We’re here for you, Draco,” she says with a kiss to his forehead. “All you need to do is ask.”

* * *

When Draco finally gets himself back to the Children’s Centre, Elara is beside herself with joy. She clings to him the entire time and refuses to let him go when his shift is up. Draco thinks of the note his mother left when she took her own life. Elara is his only family now and he wants to do everything he can to provide for her. He has to pinky promise that he’ll be back the next day, and even then she throws herself on the floor crying. Of course that’s the scene Potter walks in on.

He’s at their side in a flash, Teddy glued to his hip. “Is everything okay?” Harry asks, his voice laced with concern.

Draco wants to glare at him but quite honestly he’s thankful for the help. “I was just telling Elara that it was time for me to leave.” Her cries grow louder so he drops to the floor to rub at her back. “But I also promised I would be back first thing tomorrow!” He has to shout to be heard over her wailing.

Teddy is wiggling so Harry puts him down. Even at two years old he doesn’t talk much, but his _metamorphmagus_ abilities help him get his point across well enough. He toddles over to Elara and bends over to look at her curiously. Draco watches on in confusion as he reaches out his little hand and bravely sets it on her face. Elara jumps at the contact. There are still tears rolling down her face but the surprise has stopped her sobbing. Teddy’s hair suddenly changes to bright yellow and stands straight up from the top of his head. This, of course, elicits a giggle from the girl.

Draco is thankful that Elara has finally managed to calm down, but he can’t help but ask in confusion, “Potter, what is this?”

“He’s a person not a ‘this’ and he’s your cousin, Teddy.”

“My cousin?”

“Well, first cousin…something…removed…I don’t remember exactly- I’ll have to ask Hermione again- but he’s your Aunt Andromeda’s grandson; Teddy Lupin.”

“Lupin? As in…” Draco gulps audibly.

Harry kneels down on the floor as to join everyone else. Elara is now sitting across from Teddy, continuing to giggle as his hair changes color and shape seemingly at random. “Yes,” he answers slowly. “He and Tonks had him during the war and now your aunt has taken him in.”

Draco doesn’t even know where to begin. He wants to apologize because here’s another child whose life he’s ruined, whose parents he’s taken away, but he knows Teddy’s too little to understand even if he tried. He wants to scream because he never met Andromeda or her husband or his cousin Nymphadora because he was taught that his aunt was a blood traitor. He wants to run to her and make up for lost time. And when he looks down at Teddy giving Elara a big hug, he wants to hug Potter for bringing him. “T-thank you,” Draco says quietly, looking up at him through his lashes.

Harry gives him a light shrug but keeps his eye on the children. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“You saved me. Three or four times now, actually.”

“It’s not about keeping score.”

“It literally is. Do you not know about life debts?”

“I don’t care about any of that, Malfoy!” He’s looking at Draco now, but so is everyone else. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes to Teddy and Elara and then to Draco. “All I meant was, you don’t owe me anything. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“But why? I’m nobody.”

Harry huffs at that, watching Elara curl up in Draco’s lap. “It sure looks like you’re somebody to her.”

Draco pinches his eyes shut and tries to build up the courage to admit out loud what he’s hardly let himself believe. “She’s my sister,” he whispers. He hears Potter’s quick intake of breath and busies himself with untangling Elara’s hair from her fingers (which are once again in her mouth, much to his dismay).

After a minute of letting that sink in, Harry casts a light muffling charm around the kids and asks, “What are you going to do?”

“The short answer is, whatever I can.”

“And the long answer?”

“I want to take her home with me, but I can’t take care of a child.”

“I take care of Teddy.”

“I thought you said Andromeda took him in.”

Harry bites at his lip, worrying it between his teeth and refusing to meet Draco’s eyes. “She’s…not been well.”

“Oh. I didn't know that.” Draco knows there’s more that Potter’s not telling, but he won’t push it right now. “So you take care of him full time?”

Harry nods. “I’m not saying it’s easy, but it is worth it. I could help you,” he offers. But when Draco’s brow furrows he’s quick to add, “With the application! I could help you draft something up.”

Teddy taps Harry on the knee then and he’s forced to lift the silencing charm. “Pa-Pa,” he says and holds out a stuffed wolf toy.

“That’s right, Teddy!” His face breaks out into a proud smile. “It’s a wolf like your papa.”

“Alright,” Draco mumbles.

“What’s that?” Harry turns to him, the smile still on his face.

A little voice in the back of Draco’s mind tells him that he wouldn’t mind seeing that smile aimed at him, but he pushes that voice out of the way. “I said alright. I don’t want your help, but I’ll consider it.” He looks down at Elara, who is now snoozing in his lap. “I’ll do whatever I can for her.”


	3. Chapter 3

Lisa gets Draco a list of everything he’ll need to apply for Elara’s adoption. “The process is quite rigorous and there are many restrictions,” she warns him. “I just don’t want you to get your heart set on anything.”

“If Potter can do it then so can I.” That’s been Draco’s mantra since he first decided to fight for parental rights of his sister. Sure, Potter gets everything he wants but Draco won’t let that keep him down.

He fills out the paperwork to the best of his ability but there are some questions he has no possible way of answering. The sections for current employment, immediate family members, and personal references all stay blank. More than once he considers owling Potter and asking for help but he’s determined to do this on his own. After all, there’s a lot he has to do on his own now.

* * *

Draco goes to Gringotts alone. He’s pleased to find that the goblins don’t care much about his past, so long as he continues to keep his family’s wealth within their bank.

Draco goes to the market alone. It only took one time being harassed to chase him away from the wizarding shopping districts. He now goes to a muggle grocery. He hates the trolleys and fluorescent lights, but rather enjoys using the colorful paper money and vast assortment of coins.

Draco goes home alone. It becomes increasingly more difficult to leave Elara at the end of each day. He wishes his parents were still alive, that his friends were still around, and that he wasn’t going back to the empty old manor house.

Draco goes to bed alone. His parents knew he was gay since he was a teenager, and he knew since then that they didn’t care because he was still expected to marry a pureblood witch and sire an heir. But now that his parents are gone and he no longer has their expectations to fulfill, he feels the loneliness acutely. More than anything he wishes he had someone there with him at the end of another long day.

* * *

“Draco!” Lisa calls after him as he’s walking from one side of the centre to the other.

The therapy group for the older teens was a bit rough today, with Hogwarts letters going out and the start of school looming in their future. Draco rubs a hand down his face and turns wearily to the front desk. “Yes?”

She hands him a folded piece of parchment with an official seal holding it closed. “I was told to give this to you.”

“By whom?”

She busies herself with shuffling things around on her desk. “Head of Children’s Affairs.”

The parchment starts to shake and when he looks down he realizes it’s because his hands are trembling. It’s been a few weeks and he finally has his answer in his hand. “I-I…I have to go.”

Only Narcissa’s extensive lessons on how to act in public keep him from running to the nearest floo, though he does walk as quickly as propriety will allow. He staggers out of the fireplace in the Manor and forces himself to sit down. He’s still trembling when he breaks the wax and unfolds the letter.

> Mister Malfoy,
> 
> We thank you for your interest, but at this time your adoption has been denied. Included is a list of items that we found lacking in your application.
> 
> We appreciate all that you do for the H.J.Potter Children’s Centre and hope that you continue. And if in the future you find your personal situation has changed, let us know and we will be more than willing to reevaluate our decision.
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Directors of Magical Child Welfare

The words blur together as Draco’s eyes fill with tears. He’s back in the floo before he can even think about what he’s doing. He throws down the powder and calls out the address he promised himself he didn’t need to use.

* * *

“G’een!” Teddy shouts.

Harry looks up to find his godson pointing at the fireplace and prepares himself for their incoming guest. They’re not expecting anyone, but Bill Weasley has been known to stop by unannounced after work just to check on them from time to time. However, who steps through the floo is most certainly _not_ Bill Weasley.

“Malfoy?” Harry jumps up from his seat on the sofa and crosses the room. As he steps closer Harry notices his red, watery eyes and papers clenched in his fist. “Draco?” he asks, much softer this time.

Perhaps it’s the added compassion and concern being shown to him, or perhaps it’s the use of his given name, but that’s all it takes for Draco to break down. He feels strong arms warp around him as he starts to crumble and he then he’s sobbing into Potter’s shoulder. He cries until two little hands touch his leg. He chokes on his next sob as he picks up his head and looks down to find a miniature copy of himself staring back, complete with molten silver eyes and platinum blonde hair.

“That’s brilliant, Teddy,” Harry says with a pat onto the top of his little head. Then he gently nudges Draco over towards the sofa, making him sit down. Teddy scrambles up and wedges himself firmly between the two. “What can we do to help?”

Draco snorts derisively as he thrusts the papers at Potter. “There’s nothing to be done. Turpin warned me that I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but I just couldn’t help it. I thought for sure they’d be happy to place one of the children with an actual family member.”

“Did you read this?” Harry asks, referring to one of the pages.

“Of course.”

“ _All_ of it?”

“I…” Draco straightens out the collar of Teddy’s shirt to keep his fingers busy. “I read that the adoption was denied and found no need to continue.”

Harry hands him back the second piece of parchment and leans over to point at a specific set of lines. “These are basically the reasons why they said no.”

Draco doesn’t want to look. Why would he want to see his failings listed out one right after the other? He knows he’ll only hear his father’s voice reading him each one.

“They’re really not that bad,” Harry goes on, as though he can read his mind. “And most of them aren’t even your fault. I mean, if you don’t have any surviving family then you don’t. You can’t change that. And who cares about not having a job? If you have the money enough to provide for yourself then it shouldn’t matter if you work or not.”

He isn’t saying anything that Draco doesn’t already know. “We can’t all have fancy auror jobs like you.”

Harry pulls back, his face contorted in bewilderment. “I’m not an auror.”

“So they’ve already made you the head of the DMLE?”

“Malfoy, I don’t have a job either.”

And doesn’t that just take the cake. But Draco doesn’t have it in him to be mad. He’s just defeated. “Why am I not surprised? You have the same shortcomings as me and yet you still get to do as you please.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Do enlighten me then.”

Harry sighs and pushes himself up to standing. Then he picks up Teddy and holds him to his hip. “Come with us,” he says as he holds out his hand.

Draco looks at them skeptically. “Come where?”

“You’ll see.”

Harry doesn’t wait for another response. Instead, he grabs Draco by the arm and apparates all three of them away.

* * *

“Bloody hell, Potter, watch the shirt! I don’t have house elves to press them anymore!”

The mental images of Draco using a muggle washing machine and electric iron pop in Harry’s mind and he smirks at the very thought. But nonetheless he lets go of his arm.

“And I’d thank you at least _tell me_ before you apparate me somewhere next time. I could have splinched us!”

Harry rolls his eyes at Draco’s dramatics (though he is glad to see some of the old Draco back). “I’m sorry. I’m used to just having Teddy with me and he doesn’t complain.”

The little boy of mention wriggles to be put down and as soon as his feet hit the floor he takes off down the corridor saying, “G’an! G’an!” repeatedly.

Harry jerks his head for Draco to follow and they walk up behind Teddy as he comes up to a large set of double doors. They’re clearly somewhere in St. Mungo’s and though the words ‘Magical Memory Damages’ are printed on the doors, it does nothing to ease Draco’s confusion. Knowing that otherwise he will once again take off without them, Harry picks Teddy up before pushing open the left door.

They pass several rooms, some with doors shut and some with doors open. Draco tries not to look into the open ones, but natural curiosity gets the best of him eventually and he peeks into the next open room. He freezes in his tracks when he sees their old Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It’s undeniably him, though is hair is lying limp and he’s wearing plain white pants and a matching white shirt- stripped of all the flamboyant colors and designs he used to favor. But what he finds most unnerving is the faraway look Lockhart has in his eyes when they fix on Draco. He backs quickly away from the room and doesn’t look back as he catches up to where Harry is talking to a very tall auror.

Both of their backs are turned to him, but he overhears the end of their conversation as he approaches.

“…think it’s a good idea? Have you talked to Hermione?”

“I’m capable of making my own decisions, Nev.”

The man sighs heavily. “I know. I’m just worried about you rushing into something you’re not ready for.”

“Me? Rush into something?”

Draco clears his throat and they turn around at the sound. The broad-shouldered auror is none other than Neville Longbottom, who does not seem to be even half as surprised as Draco, though his shoulders do hunch in just a bit. Neville nods his head and says in greeting, “Malfoy.”

And quite frankly that’s more than he expected. “Longbottom. Things are going well, I hope.”

Neville nods again. Then he turns to Harry. “I better be getting back to the Ministry; my lunch break is up soon. Owl me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Of course.” Harry has to lean up on his toes to give him a hug. “I’ll keep you posted.”

He ruffles Teddy’s hair and with one more nod to Draco, he leaves the ward with a swoosh of his deep burgundy robes.

Without the distraction of Neville, Teddy is back to pulling Harry and Draco along towards their destination. Finally, they get to the last room. The door is shut and Harry knocks before opening it. Teddy tries to rush in, once again repeating, “G’an! G’an!” though Harry gets ahold of him before he’s able to slip away.

Draco hesitates to follow but then Harry is holding onto his hand and gently tugs him in after them. Sitting in a comfortable looking chair by the window is a woman he’s only seen in pictures. His heart races at first because he thinks it’s Bellatrix, but then he remembers what the Ministry did with her and realizes it’s his other aunt. It’s Andromeda.

“Andi?” Harry asks quietly.

The woman looks surprised. “Yes?”

“It’s Harry and Teddy again. How are you feeling today?” Her eyes cloud over for a moment, as though she’s struggling to focus them. “Andi?” Harry asks again. “It’s Harry. Do you remember me?”

“G’AN!” Teddy breaks free from Harry’s grip and runs toward her.

She freezes as Teddy scrambles up on the chair to settle on her lap. He wraps his little arms around her and she gently, though cautiously, pats him on the back. Harry winces at their interaction. “This isn’t a good day,” he whispers to Draco, as though that should mean something to him. “We just came by with your nephew Draco to say hello.”

“Hello, Draco,” she says to boy on her lap.

“No, Andi, that’s Teddy. Your grandson.”

“Grandson?” She looks down at him again. “But how can I have a grandson? I don’t have any children.”

Harry pinches his eyes closed, regretting the decision to come here without checking with the mediwitches first. But Draco needs to see this to understand. He pulls the other man up next to him. “ _This_ is Draco.”

Andromeda’s gaze zeros in on Draco then, and for a moment there seems to be clarity. “Draco?” she asks in a soft tone. But then she’s shaking her head and the it’s like the fog is back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone named Draco.”

* * *

They don’t stay very long, just long enough for Andromeda to read a picture book to Teddy and for her to return another confused hug. Draco doesn’t say a word the entire time, except for the floo address to get back to their house. But the second Harry stumbles out of the fireplace he starts yelling, “What in the hell was that all about, Potter?!”

Harry sends Teddy across the room to play. “I wanted you to know why I was granted guardianship of Teddy. And why I want to help you do the same for Elara.”

Draco calms down at the mention of his sister. “What…” he gulps, not sure he really wants to know, “…what happened to my aunt?”

“Life?” Harry lets out a humorless laugh as he drops onto the empty sofa. “Ted’s death was hard enough on her, but then to have it followed by the death of her daughter and son-in-law. Teddy kept her going for a while but when your mother-” he claps his mouth shut before saying the words, but Draco can fill in the blanks. “Narcissa was the breaking point. Andi took her wand to her head and obliviated herself. I came in to find her standing in the nursery screaming. Apparently Teddy had started crying when he woke up from his nap and- not knowing who it was or what was going on- she freaked out. I took her to St. Mungo’s and she hasn’t been home since. Everything I know is from what the healers were able to figure out.”

Draco slowly lowers himself to sit beside Harry, and echoes back the words that were spoken to him at his mother’s funeral, “It’s awful this is happening to you.”

“I just feel bad for Teddy. He misses her and he’s too little to understand what’s going on.”

“At least he has you.”

“And you.” Harry turns then to fully face Draco. “Please let me help you with the adoption. I want Elara to have you and Teddy.”

Draco holds his chin high, defiant even though he already knows he’s given in. “I won’t have you throw your weight around to have them change their minds. There’s no honor in that.”

“Of course.”

“Fine. Then what do you propose?”

“Interesting you should use that word,” Harry says as he slides off the sofa and down to the floor. He rests on one knee and asks, “Will you marry me?”

“E-excuse me?”

“I said, will you marry me?”

It makes no more sense to Draco the second time he hears it. A laugh bubbles up before he can stop it, and that one gives way to a second laugh and the a third and then he’s guffawing right in Potter’s face (which is glaring at him quite menacingly).

“You- you- you-” He has to stop to breathe, wiping at his eyes while his shoulders continue to shake. Finally he gets himself under control enough to say, “You really have gone ‘round the bend, Potter! _Me_ marry _you_ …can you even imagine what people would say?!”

Harry folds his arms across his chest and pinches his lips together in frustration. Draco thinks he looks a bit like Granger when he does that, but he’s smart enough to not bring it up. “I was being serious,” Harry spits out.

“You cannot seriously want to marry me! Are you telling me that you’re really willing to be Harold Malfoy for the rest of your life?”

“More like you’d be Draco Potter,” he grumbles. Draco looks like he’s ready to start up laughing again so Harry marches right on with the little speech he’d been preparing before he got sidetracked. “Look, Malfoy, I never thought I’d be essentially a dad at 20 years old; I’m making it up as I go. But I want to help you! They never gave Sirius a fair trial and that robbed me of the chance to grow up with someone who really loved me. The only thing keeping you from taking Elara home right now is a stupid list of arbitrary qualifications. All that should matter is that you want to and are able to take care of her.”

Draco thinks about it. He _really_ thinks about it. Part of him wants to accept Potter’s offer straight away. He has the political power to do whatever he wants and Draco could easily use that power to his advantage. But he already has a target on his back without being the one responsible for taking the wizarding world’s most eligible bachelor off the market. Witches and wizards everywhere would have their hearts broken. And damn if that thought alone doesn’t make Draco’s chest puff out just a smidge with pride. Not that he has feelings for the Golden Boy! It’s just that it’s been a long time since anyone has been envious of Draco Malfoy.

Yet, at the end of the day, no other justification matters besides one. “Are you sure you can get them to change their minds?” he asks, voice almost timid.

“I’m positive.”

“Then I accept.”


	4. Chapter 4

The culmination of hours of talking with Potter results in a simple plan. First: get someone they trust to marry them in secret. Second: get a place to live that hasn’t been inhabited by an evil maniac. Third: get a job, and if no one is willing to hire him then be gainfully self-employed. Fourth: get the directors to reconsider guardianship of Elara.

And now Draco is just passing the time until he can get on with the first step. He rereads the missive that arrived by owl earlier in the day.

> Malfoy,
> 
> I’m going to drop Teddy off at the Burrow and then meet you at the Ministry. Kingsley is expecting us, under the guise of discussing your community service at the Children’s Centre. His undersecretaries won’t be there by the time we arrive so our presence should go relatively unnoticed.
> 
> Thank you for letting me help you.
> 
> HJP

He can’t even believe this is happening; he’s actually _marrying_ Harry Potter. Draco remembers being a small child and hearing stories about the baby who defeated You-Know-Who. He would sit at the foot of his mother’s bed, sometimes with Blaise or Greg or Vince at his side, listening and dreaming of being friends with the Boy Who Lived until his father chased them all off to bed. He also remembers standing in Madam Malkin’s and meeting the very same boy, though he didn’t know it at the time (and by the time he figured it out it was too late).

The clock chimes and Draco is on his feet in an instant. He floos to the address given to him and steps out into the waiting room just outside of the Minister’s office. He barely clears the grate before the fire flares up again and Potter stumbles out.

Harry smiles at first, but falters when he notices the way Draco’s sneering at him. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s what you decided to wear?” Draco asks with a dismissive gesture to Harry’s clothes.

Harry rocks onto his heels as he looks down at his ratty trainers. His denims are frayed at the bottoms, sure, but they’re clean. He supposes that in comparison to Draco he looks like rubbish. Perhaps he should have changed into something proper, but it’s not as though there will be any witnesses to what they’re about to do. He decides it best to simply shrug off the comment. “You look nice enough for the both of us,” he says in consolation.

Draco opens his mouth to reply but then the door bangs open and the Minister is welcoming them in with handshakes and bellowed greetings. He waits until they’re all seated to ask the real reason for their visit.

“Can’t we just pop in for a chat, Kings?” Harry teases.

Draco’s eyes nearly roll out of his head. Who does Potter think he is to refer to the Minister of Magic in such friendly terms? But apparently he is okay with it because he chuckles deeply and says, “My door is always open to you boys, but your owl did say it was urgent.”

“We’re to be married,” Draco says bluntly, pleased that this shuts up both the Minister and his betrothed.

Kingsley blinks several times in a row before he can manage to school his features. “In that case, I offer you both my sincerest congratulations. I can’t say I expected this but if you’re happy then that’s what’s most important.”

Harry gazes at Draco through the curls of his fringe. They prepared for this; they just have to stick to the plan. Draco gives him an almost imperceptible nod and then turns his most pathetically innocent look on the Minister. “Thank you, sir,” he says sweetly. He reaches for Harry’s hand and twines their fingers together. “We certainly are happy,” Draco bats his eyelashes for added dramatic effect, “and we’d like to keep it that way. That’s where we could really use your help.”

Kingsley waves a hand, bidding him to go on.

“You see,” Harry takes over, “the Prophet would never leave us alone if they knew. So the longer we can keep it quiet the better. If you’re willing, we’d like you to marry us and file the paperwork personally. It will still be public record, of course, but we trust you to keep it to yourself.”

The Minister gives them both such a genuinely soft smile that Draco starts to feel bad about deceiving him. This man has shown him nothing but kindness since he was released from prison, and yet Potter has managed to talk him into lying to his face. Draco is compelled to sprinkle in at least a few grains of truth when he says, “Not to mention, the sooner we’re married the sooner we can start a family.”

Harry gasps, then tries to cover it up with a cough, only to end up having a real coughing fit as a result. Kingsley pours him a glass of water and then asks with concern, “Are you certain you’re ready for children when you’re hardly out of childhood yourselves?”

“I’ve been incarcerated,” Draco says flatly, “and we’ve both fought in a war. Our childhood was taken away long ago.”

“Not to mention Teddy,” Harry adds, finding his voice again. “He deserves two parents to love him.”

Kingsley can only hang his head at the truth of their words. “Right you are, boys.”

Then he stands abruptly and walks to a large file cabinet at the side of his office. With a flick of his wrist, the top left drawer opens and extends nearly the length of the room (much further than it would appear capable of). Harry marvels at it- a fact that does not go unnoticed by Draco, though he keeps any comments about that for later.

“Aha!” Kingsley declares as he pulls a single piece of parchment from deep within the file drawer. He snaps it flat with a single motion and says, “I’ve never been given the honor of marrying anyone directly, though it is well within my power to do so. Here. Take a quill.”

Draco picks up one of the proffered quills and asks, “Is it true the parchment can detect consent?”

He nods. “It’s been spelled to only accept signatures of those who are entering into this decision of their own free will. It’s sad we can’t take people at their word, but it’s safer this way.”

Harry hesitates. Will it know that Draco only agreed to marry him out of obligation? He jumps when he feels Draco press the other quill into his sweaty palm. Now Harry’s afraid that _Kingsley_ will be able to tell this isn’t real. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this for Draco!

As though feeling his nervousness, Draco squeezes Harry’s knee with his empty hand. “We understand,” he tells the Minister. “There was a time when an arranged marriage was my fate, but thankfully now I am able to decide my own future.”

Draco squeezes again and Harry lets it ground him. He focuses on the weight and warmth of it, so real and present. This is happening. Harry smiles at Draco in thanks and signs his full name to the document. Draco does the same, though his elegant script is much more legible than Harry’s. Kingsley finishes it off with his own signature and official ministry seal.

“The only thing left to decide is exactly what you'd like performed.”

“Just the marriage bond,” Draco answers quickly. Harry made it very clear to him that after everything he went through with Voldemort, he was never going to bond his soul with anyone- or any _thing_ \- else ever again. “If that’s alright,” he adds in a sweeter tone.

“Of course!” The Minister is all smiles. “Do you have rings? Although any circular item can work.”

Draco is about to shake his head when Harry surprises him by pulling out a matching set of rings from his pocket. One is silver, the other is gold, and both have a stylized dragon etched around them. He offers them up on his palm for Draco to choose, but he’s frozen where he sits. When did Potter buy these rings? And why didn’t he say something first? Harry further surprises Draco by taking his hand and putting the silver ring on his finger, before putting the golden one on his own.

Then they link hands as Kingsley speaks the incantation, waving his wand between the two of them in increasingly intricate patterns. Neither Harry nor Draco are prepared for the visible band of maroon that winds itself around their hands. It tingles at first but then quickly turns warm. Draco finds it comforting and familiar, like sipping tea on a rainy day or like being snuggled up in bed having a nice lie in. When he risks a glance over at Potter and finds him wearing a sappy grin, Draco figures he must be sporting a similar expression.

Looking first Harry then Draco in the eye Kingsley asks, “Do you swear to care for each other, both physically and emotionally, in good times and in bad?”

Having read up on the marriage bonding process, they answer in chorus, “We do.”

The warm tingling increases in strength, to the point where Draco wants to pull his hand away but he can’t. No, that’s not quite right. He thinks he _could_ if he tried but he doesn’t want to. It’s just that he feels as though his whole world would come crashing down around him if he did. Why does it feel that way?

But just as quickly, it’s gone- as is the maroon band of bonding magic.

Kingsley pockets his wand and signs their proof of marriage. “Congratulations, boys,” he says with a grin. “Are you going to celebrate tonight?”

“Something like that,” Draco mumbles.

Harry elbows him in the side and says, “There’s nothing big planned because we have to go pick up Teddy from Molly and Arthur’s.”

“We do?”

“Did you think we were going to just leave him there?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t thinking about him at all.”

“Malfoy!”

Draco catches the Minister’s eyebrows raise at their argument and further pinch together at Potter calling him by his last name, so he quickly softens his voice. “I apologize, _sweetheart_. All I meant was that I thought your Weasleys would be watching the _dear little one_ so that we could spend our first night as _husbands_ all alone.”

Thankfully, Harry’s not as dim as Draco thinks him to be. His mouth opens in a wide O as it dawns on him what’s happening. “Oh. OH! Yes. Of course. You’re absolutely right, _darling_. We’ll just pop by to make sure he’s alright and then we can get on with our evening.”

He forces an overly large smile that he’s sure the Minister can see right through. “Let’s be on our way then, _sugarplum_.”

“Wonderful idea, _beloved_.”

Draco’s breath catches with that one. He heard his father call his mother that for as long as he can remember up until the last moment they all saw each other. But this isn't real. It's all a farce. “Come on,” he says quickly without making any further eye contact.

Harry grabs his hand and thanks Kingsley as he’s practically dragged out of the office and towards the floo. When he’s sure they’re truly alone he says to Draco, “I’d like you to come with me.”

“Why?”

“Molly and Arthur deserve to know. They’re basically my parents.”

“They don’t already?”

“Well…no…”

“I only assumed that if Granger and the Weasel knew then-”

“They don’t know either,” Harry all but whispers.

Draco shakes his hand free and rubs at his forehead. What in the world was Potter thinking? You can’t just spring something like this on family! Not to mention the centuries old feud between the Weasleys and the Malfoys. Does he want Draco to be murdered? He knows that Mrs. Weasley killed Bellatrix during the Battle of Hogwarts, and who could forget back when he was twelve when Mr. Weasley jumped Lucius at the bookstore and punched him square in the nose? No good could possibly come from this. But perhaps it would teach Potter a lesson and he’d never have to see the Weasleys ever again.

“What’s the address?” Draco asks with a sigh.

“Burrow. Ottery St. Catchpole.”

“Of course it is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Do you want to go first?”

“That’d probably be best. Give me five minutes and then follow through, alright?”

“If you insist.”

Draco watches Harry go and then leans against the brick wall. The weight of what they’ve just done is really starting to sink in; the Weasleys are his family now. He’s about to go to their home for crying out loud! He knows he has to be prepared to grovel for their forgiveness. Draco also finds it strange that Granger and the Weasel have been suspiciously absent from Potter’s life. All he knows is that they’re out of the country at the moment, but for how inseparable they always were it’s more than a little strange.

He checks his watch and sighs. “ _Here goes nothing,_ ” Draco thinks as he steps through the floo to the Burrow.

* * *

He didn't think the Weasleys would outright kick him out (okay, so he definitely thought that), but he's still pleasantly surprised by the warm welcome he receives. Teddy runs to him first, wrapping his little arms around Draco’s legs. Another little girl toddles her way over and does the same. Mr. Weasley clasps him on the shoulder and says, “Welcome to the family, son.”

Then Mrs. Weasley walks over and takes his hands into her own. “Harry told us, dear, and it's good that you’ve found your sister. You just let us know if we can do anything to help.”

He looks over her shoulder to where Harry is beaming back at him. The smile looks so genuine that for the briefest of moments he imagines coming home to this every single day. “ _Thank you_ ,” Draco mouths to him.

Then he thanks Mr. and Mrs. Weasley aloud. “I appreciate it, though I’m not sure I deserve your kindness. I need to give you all my sincerest apologies for the way I was before. I did terrible things and-”

“And you’ve paid the price already,” Harry interrupts him.

“Well I wasn’t apologizing to you, was I, Potter?”

“Draco,” Molly says sternly to get his attention back on her. “We don’t talk to each other like that. And we don’t hold grudges. You were just a child the same way Harry was just a child, the same as my own children and all children who were involved. I only wish that none of you would have been dragged into the mess at all. So we accept your apology but know that we weren’t just sitting around waiting for you to say sorry.”

There’s a prickle of tears in the corner of his eyes. He imagined all sorts of creative ways the Weasleys might tell him to bugger off, but he never thought it was a possibility that they’d welcome him in with open arms and an offer of forgiveness. Draco’s saved from having to come up with a response by two more people arriving by floo.

“What’s for dinner, Mum?” the same Weasley who was at Narcissa’s funeral asks as he steps into the room. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were having guests. Hello, Harry. Are you staying for dinner?”

Harry laughs and follows Bill into the kitchen, saying something about how all the Weasley boys are obsessed with food. Fleur Delacour arrives after him, happily picking up the little blonde girl who hugged Draco’s legs earlier. She introduces herself and her daughter to Draco and nearly pushes him into the kitchen. He surprises Fleur by speaking French and the two are in their own little world until a large plate of roast and vegetables is set down.

Draco looks to Mrs. Weasley with wide, surprised eyes. “You made all this?”

“Of course, dear.”

“I haven’t eaten like this since…” He lets out an uncharacteristically nervous chuckle. “Let’s just say it’s been a long time. Thank you.”

Molly waves him off. “That’s how we treat family around here. You better get used to it.”

Draco looks around the table in disbelief, but all he gets back are smiles and nods in agreement. Harry gives him another one of those smiles and he forces himself to look away.

“Ea’!” Teddy yells, smacking the empty table in front of him, and it’s the perfect distraction.

Molly sets a small plate down in front of both of the children with the food already cut up into appropriate little pieces, and dinner gets underway. And though he’s uncertain of his future with these people, Draco thinks that maybe pretending won’t be so difficult after all.

* * *

At the end of the evening, Harry gathers up a very sleepy Teddy. The boy snuggles into his shoulder and his eyes are closed before Harry can even cross to the floo. “Are you coming home with us?” Harry asks.

Draco looks down at the ring on his left hand with uncertainty. “Um, no thank you. I appreciate everything you’ve done today, Potter, but I need some time to myself right now.”

“But the plan-”

“Is still going to happen. Just not this evening.”

Harry sighs but eventually nods in understanding. “Alright. Have a good night, then, and owl us when you’re ready for the next step.”

“I will.”  Draco smooths Teddy’s hair back from his forehead and gently places a kiss there. “Sweet dreams, Potter.” Then he steps onto the grate and throws down his handful of powder.


	5. Chapter 5

“No.”

“Come on, Malfoy. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I am not! You’re being stubborn.”

“We have to think of the children.”

“They cannot be your excuse for everything.”

“Malfoy! You’re not listening to me!”

“ _Malfoy! You’re not listening to me!_ ” Draco mocks in a high-pitched nasally voice, and that’s it for Harry who storms out of the room.

They’ve been at it for a week, trying to decide where they should live. Draco spends his days at the Children’s Centre while Harry does who knows what. Then he comes back to spend the evenings at Andromeda’s house. Harry feeds them all dinner and then they play with Teddy until it’s time for bed. As soon as the little boy is asleep, that’s when the arguing starts up. Draco hates all of Harry’s suggestions and vise verse. The only thing they can seem to agree on is that they shouldn’t be living at Andromeda’s anymore. Draco doesn’t feel comfortable living in the home of a woman who doesn’t even know who he is. The walls are still adorned with pictures of Tonks, Remus, Ted, and the old Order, making it feel more like a shrine and less like a home.

First Harry suggests they move into Grimmauld Place, but Draco is only there for a few minutes before he has a long list of reasons why that’s never going to happen. “I do not want my sister or cousin hearing the disgusting filth that portrait is spewing! Not to mention, everything is boarded up and in such a state of disrepair. And don’t even get me started on the third floor room that’s clearly had a wild animal living in it!”

Harry decides against telling Draco about Sirius keeping Buckbeak up there, though he does try to make the argument that they can work on fixing the rooms up in their spare time.

“It would take us a lifetime,” Draco complains.

Harry can think of worse ways to spend the rest of his life (though, once again, he keeps this thought to himself).

Then Draco counters with the suggestion that they move to his family’s property in France. Harry refuses, declaring, “I’m not leaving my friends.”

“More like you’re not leaving your adoring fans.”

“Shut it, Malfoy. I wish everyone would just leave me alone and you know that.”

“That’s exactly why you should want to move away.”  
“What about the kids? Teddy would miss Victoire and the rest of the Weasleys, and I want Elara to be around them as well.”

“We cannot base all of our decisions on the Weasleys.”

“You didn’t seem to mind them the other night.”

“I didn’t say I hated them; I’m just saying that this is _our_ life, not _theirs_.”

Harry knows Draco is right. But he’s far too stubborn to admit it.

Both men figure they’ll never come up with an agreeable solution, until Bill comes over to pick up Teddy for his playdate with Victoire. He asks them how the house hunting is going and when their only answer is a growl, he suggests the Diggory’s old place.

“What do you mean, ‘old place’?” Harry asks.

“They moved shortly after, well…” Bill knows that Fleur still has the occasional nightmare of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and assumes Harry doesn’t need to be reminded either.

“Oh.” Harry looks down at his shoes, rocking on his feet to distract himself.

Draco doesn’t like the awkward tension filling the space so he chooses to keep the conversation going. “Where is it?”

Bill looks thankful for the diversion as well. “It’s not far from the Burrow. The property is large like mum and dad’s, and it also sits up against a good sized lake.”

Draco is intrigued. Ottery St. Catchpole is not his first choice of location but he likes the idea of having land to call their own. “Perhaps we should take a look. What do you think, Potter?”

“I don’t know…” he trails off uncertainly. The last thing he wants to do is move from one haunting shrine to another. He doesn’t think he can continue to live in the shadow of the people he’s let down.

“We should at least go look.”

Harry only acquiesces because it’s the first local place that Draco has shown interest in. So while Teddy stays with Bill and Molly, Arthur takes them over to see the house.

The closest neighbors (the Weasleys and the Lovegoods) are several hours away by foot, and this house looks nothing like either. It’s a two-story cottage surrounded by low hills. There’s flower boxes on the windows and they can see the edge of the lake Bill mentioned from the top of one of the hills.

“I remember walking past this with Hermione and Ron when we were on the run,” Harry utters quietly. “We never knew who owned it.”

If Draco had to describe it, he’d use the word ‘quaint’. The stone walls and tiled roof are exactly what one would expect in this area. And the surrounding land is simply picturesque.

Arthur leads them into the house through the front door, which opens into a spacious open floorplan that is both kitchen and sitting room. Light is pouring in through the windows and, though every surface is covered in dust, it makes everything shine with a golden hue. “Molly was always envious of the room Margaret had to work in here.”

“I don’t do much cooking,” Draco admits. “But Potter is quite the chef.” He doesn’t miss the way Harry preens at the compliment.

Upstairs are three modest sized bedrooms. What’s clearly the master bedroom has en suite facilities and an attached study (if the built-in bookshelves are anything to go by. The other slightly smaller bedrooms have adjoining access to a second bathroom between the two. Draco doesn’t mind Teddy and Elara sharing a bedroom now (in fact, it might be good for both of them to have a pseudo-sibling so close) but as they get older they will need their own space, and they’ll be short one room. Although, maybe by that time they won’t have to live with Potter anymore. Draco had just assumed he’d have to pretend to be married forever, but certainly once the adoption is finalized they can go their separate ways if they want.

Arthur clears his throat and looks at him expectantly. “I’m sorry,” Draco says sheepishly. “Could you repeat that, please?”

“I just asked if you thought you needed me any longer.”

Draco looks to Harry, who both nods and shrugs at the same time. So much for concise decisions. “You can leave if you would like. There’s much we need to discuss.”

“You two are welcome to stay as long as you like. Molly will have dinner together soon, especially with the kids over, so just come back when you’re ready.” Arthur gives them each a squeeze on the shoulder and then disapparates on the spot.

“We’ll have to put up some good warding,” Draco says once he’s gone.

Harry’s emotions are usually pretty easy to read on his face, but for once his expression gives nothing away. “You want to move here?” he asks.

“It’s out of the way, which I like and it’s near your Weasleys, which you like. And the entire house is empty so you don’t have to worry about things left behind. This could be your chance to truly start over.”

One side of Harry’s mouth ticks up. “You knew I was worried about that?”

“You avert your eyes from the pictures on the walls at Andromeda’s. I understand because there’s parts of the Manor I still can’t look at.” Draco lets out a yelp when Harry throws his arms around him. “I-is that necessary, Potter?”

Harry pulls away but his smile remains. “How soon do you want to move in?”

“We have much we need to sort out first, but I would like to start the process as soon as possible.”

They take one final turn through the house before going back to the Burrow. Draco’s mind whirls as he imagines each room filled with furniture and children and laughter, so different from his own experience in the Manor. He wants that so badly for Elara and for Teddy. He wants them to grow up knowing that family means love and happiness, not oppressive duty and pain. Little does he know that Harry is thinking the same thing.

* * *

Since Arthur is taking the responsibility of contacting the Diggorys about the sale of the house, all Harry and Draco have to worry about is splitting the cost. This should be a simple task, but nothing between them is ever simple. Harry offers to pay the entire amount outright, but Draco is having none of that.

“I have money, Potter,” he argues. “Or have you forgotten how my father bought the best and newest brooms for the entire Slytherin quidditch team?”

Harry grinds his teeth together to resist spitting out a scathing remark. “I wasn’t implying you were poor, simply that I have more money than I know what to do with- _including_ the Black vaults, which would technically be yours had Sirius not left them to me.”

“I understand,” Draco sighs, “but we’re married and even if it’s just for convenience, a marriage is a partnership and partnerships are equal. I insist we do this the right way.”

Harry has no choice but to agree to such a well-stated argument, so they floo to Gringotts and get the money from the appropriate vaults. Draco notices how all the goblins seem reluctant to help them, which is strange because they’ve never seemed to care before. He realizes it may not actually be because of him when one goblin in particular growls at Potter.

“ _What have you done to lose their favor_?” he whispers on the cart ride back to the lobby of Gringotts.

“ _Hermione, Ron, and I broke in, let a dragon escape, put a gaping hole in the ceiling, and led Voldemort here._ ” His tone is casual but his body language gives away his embarrassment.

“ _That story was true_?!” Draco can’t believe it. He heard so many rumors about Potter and the rest of the Golden Trio that he hardly believed any of them. The only one he clung to was that they knew a way to win the war.

“ _Unfortunately_.”

“ _I do expect to hear the full story later_.”

Harry gives him a small smile and Draco tries not to let it warm him.

* * *

Collecting his personal belongings from the Manor takes less time than Draco anticipated. He takes a few small gifts from his mother- including a plush dragon he’s had since he was a baby and his personalized quill and ink set she gave him when he left for Hogwarts- and the furniture from his bedroom. Everything else he either boxes up or covers with white sheets. He wishes he could cast dust-repelling charms, but he’d need his wand for that.

Draco sets everything he’s taking (except for the large furniture) by the floo so he can easily transport it all back and forth, and then picks up his trunk and steps through to his new home. He goes right upstairs and opens the door to one of the smaller bedrooms only to find that it’s already filled from wall to wall. This is strange for two reasons. One, there was nothing there before and two, Harry is on all fours grunting and struggling to get the fitted sheet onto the bed.

“Need some help there, Potter?” Draco asks with a smirk.

Harry nearly leaps off the bed in surprise which, of course, makes Draco laugh so hard he has to lean against the door frame to keep from falling over. Harry is less amused, cheeks heating up as he mutters, “I didn’t know I’d have an audience.”

“And you certainly did make quite the show!” Draco wipes at his eyes and looks again at the small bedroom. “I was going to take this one, you know.”

“I left you the largest one…” Harry says slowly.

“I thought perhaps the children could share the largest room?”

Harry seems to realize he hasn’t yet climbed off the bed and does so, crossing to stand before Draco. But once he’s there he starts to fidget, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt. “We can switch, if that’s what you want, but Teddy’s already picked out his room.”

Draco has to pry his eyes away from the gentle way that Harry’s hands move, lest he start imagining _other ways_ those fingers can be put to good use. “You want Elara and Teddy sharing that small space?”

“I was thinking that we could use the study as another bedroom. That way, no one would have to share.”

“I hadn’t considered that.” Though having a study would be nice, having his sister close by is better. “Good thinking, Potter.”

Harry just shrugs. “I slept with Teddy right next to me in my bed for the first week I had him alone. Then I read that co-sleeping makes for a higher risk of infant death and he went right back into his cot, but even then I slept on the floor right next to him. Elara’s not a baby but I can imagine you won’t want her out of your sight at first.”

“You still think this is going to work?” Draco asks, not able to keep the doubt from his voice.

“Yes,” he answers without any hesitation. “Now let’s get the rest of your things moved in. Do you have them shrunk down already?”

Draco goes from hopeful to devastated all at once. “I can’t do that,” he mumbles.

“I can teach you the charm if that’s what-”

“I don’t have a wand, you plonker!”

“But…” Harry’s face twists in confusion. “I…” he turns towards the overstuffed bedroom, eyes scanning for something. “I’m fairly certain I…” he practically rips open his old trunk. “No, no, I _know_ I…oh no…” books and quills and badges go flying as Harry throws each item this way and that.

Draco watches on in complete and utter bewilderment. He’s thought Potter mad many a times in the past but this is on another level.

Then Harry freezes. His hand is wrapped around something that Draco can’t see from the doorway. He stands slowly with his hand clutched behind his back. His face is pale and stricken. “Malfoy, I…I’m so sorry.” He slowly brings his arm around and uncurls his fist.

Draco can’t believe it. It’s his wand. His hawthorn wand he got from Ollivander when he was eleven years old. The same wand he held with a trembling hand towards his headmaster when he was ordered to kill him. The same wand he lost to Potter that fateful night at the Manor. When it was not returned upon his release from prison, he just assumed they had snapped it. But here it is. “You had it this whole time?”

His words don’t sound angry, but Harry is still wary. He practically throws it at Draco and takes a step back before saying, “I truly forgot. I thought I had given it to Kingsley years ago.”

There was a time when Draco would have been furious about this. But now? He’s just glad to have it back. He wraps his hand around the wand and he relishes the magic thrumming through his fingers. It doesn’t feel the same as it once did, but he attributes that to having to make due without magic for so long. He looks up at Harry to thank him but finds the other man practically cowering across the room. Draco takes a step towards him and he takes another step back, keeping the distance between them. He takes another step and so does Harry. “Potter.”

He takes another step back. “Look, Malfoy, I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am. There’s so many things I do without magic that sometimes I forget that it comes as second nature to those who grew up with it. I can only imagine how hard this has been and it’s all my fault and-”

“You’re rambling, Potter.” He takes another step forward.

“I’m sorry!”

Step.

“Stop moving.”

Step.

“I don’t think I will.”  
Step.

“Be reasonable.”

Step.

“No, thank you.”

Step.

“Potter.”

Step.

“Mal- oof!” Harry takes one final step and finds himself flat against the back wall of the room. Draco is standing before him predatorily. Harry closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. Without opening them back up again he says, “Whatever you’re going to do, just make it quick and not lethal. I have Teddy to think about.”

He braces himself for pain but he gets exactly the opposite. Draco gently pushes his arms between Harry and the wall, moving them until Harry is wrapped up tightly in his embrace. “Thank you,” Draco whispers into his ear.

“B-but…I…”

“It’s fine. I mean, it would have been nice to have it all this time but I survived.” He squeezes him a little tighter in hopes of further conveying his appreciation.

Now Harry knows how Draco felt just a few days ago when he practically attacked him with a hug over the decision to move here. He chuckles and pats him lightly on the back. “If it helps at all, I wouldn’t have been able to defeat him without it.”

Draco pulls back and looks at him with wide eyes. “Did you use it to kill him?” Harry nods and then he’s afraid he’ll be squished again but Draco does him one better, picking him up and spinning him around in a tight circle. Harry laughs, getting a bit dizzy but not caring in the least.

“Potter, I could kiss you!”

“Then why don’t you?”

Draco drops him to the floor. All he says is, “I’m going to go get the rest of my belongings,” and then he’s gone.

Harry isn’t sure why he said that to him, but as he watches Draco’s retreating form he wishes he could take the words back.


	6. Chapter 6

Since the teenagers in his therapy group will be leaving for Hogwarts soon and since Draco will be starting at his new job, he decides to take them on an outing. He asks where they want to go and after much deliberation it is decided that they’ll go to a Muggle cinema. He’s not surprised because that’s all anyone has wanted to talk about lately. They’ve become obsessed with everything Muggle from gel pens, to cassette tapes, to cellular phones (none of which can be taken to Hogwarts).

Draco takes them to a shopping centre first. They don’t purchase anything but they ‘ooo’ and ‘ahh’ at every kiosk and shop, noses pressed to glass display cases like little children. He’s glad that he’s able to do this for them. For once they don’t carry the weight of the war and their loss on their shoulders. They’re just allowed to exist and be happy. That’s all Draco wants for them and that’s all he wants for Teddy and Elara.

When they’ve taken in their fill, they head towards the cinema. Draco lets them pick the film and immediately regrets it when they choose something called ‘Clueless’. It’s an American film that’s apparently very popular. He recognizes straight away why: the main character carries a cellular phone, drives an open-sided automobile, and bunks off school with her friends. Draco feels the urge to remind them that the real world doesn’t work this way, but he has the feeling these teenagers know that better than anyone else.

It is such an enjoyable day that Draco doesn’t even notice how exhausted he is until he gets home. He apparates to the edge of their warding and then strolls down the hill to the house. When he opens the door he expects to see Teddy running around, as he seems to do from the minute he wakes up until the moment he falls asleep, but instead he finds Potter talking to a tall, blonde man. They’re standing all too close for Draco’s liking and neither seem to notice when he walks in.

“Lucas, I’m sorry,” Harry says, “but it’s just not going to work out between us.”

The man- presumably Lucas- looms over him, running his fingers through Potter’s wild hair. “You’re not even going to give me a chance?”

“Things have changed since we saw each other last.”  
“What, so you’re suddenly not into blokes now?” Lucas trails his hand from Potter’s hair all the way down his arm before settling on his waist. “Because I thought we had a good time before, and I’m all about improving upon past performances.”

He leans in even closer and Draco’s had enough. He crosses the kitchen in just a few paces, pulls the man back by his shoulder, and forcefully tells him, “He said no. That _means_ no.”

Lucas is thrown off at first but he quickly regains his composure. He turns back to Harry and says, “I get it now. You already have my replacement all queued up. Too bad he’s just a cheap imitation.”

Draco has his wand back and he wants so much to hex this git, but he resists. He doesn’t need to give anyone a reason to send him back to prison. He holds his chest and head high, looking down his nose at him. “Listen here, you sanctimonious prat. If anything, you are the cheap imitation around here. Now I suggest you apologize to my husband and then get lost, preferably somewhere far away and with several carnivorous predators.”

Harry looks just as shocked as Lucas does, but when he doesn’t come to his defense Lucas scoffs and heads for the door. He turns back just before he leaves and warns, “You’ll regret this.”

Draco doesn’t stop seething, even after he’s gone. “I know this isn’t a real marriage so I don’t care if you shag other people,” he says to Harry, “just so long as it’s not him.” He doesn’t wait around for a response. He has to prepare for the first day at his new job, after all.

* * *

There’s a note tacked to the cupboards the next morning when Draco drags himself into the kitchen.

> I’m helping Hagrid get things ready at Hogwarts. Teddy is with me.
> 
> Good luck today,
> 
> Harry

Draco thinks it’s awfully convenient that Potter is off in Scotland the day after their awkward encounter, but he doesn’t have the time to dwell on it. He has an appointment to keep with his new Potions Master.

He locks up the house and then starts off across the hills. He wishes he had the time to walk the entire way, but he’ll have to save that for another day. Instead, Draco walks as long as he can and then apparates to the side garden of the oddly-shaped house. He spares a passing glance at the odd devices floating in the air and thinks there would have been a time he would have mocked them. But now? It’s all part of the family’s charm.

Draco bypasses the house itself and heads for the garden shed. He’s about to knock on the door when it swings open and Luna flies out. She bounces up and down in front of him, clapping her hands and saying, “Draco! I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Yes, well, I…” he trails off when he notices she’s not alone. None other than Ginerva Weasley is sitting on a stool before the work bench lined with cauldrons. He nods politely in her direction and gets a sneer in return. “Umm…” he utters dimly, feeling a lot like Potter (who always seems to be at a loss for words when he’s caught off guard).

“Oh, don’t mind Ginny,” Luna says, never losing her sweet smile or enthusiasm. “She has to get to her practice anyway. She just thought she’d stop by and try one last time to talk me out of this.”

Draco can’t believe she just said that out loud. And if the look on Weasley’s face is anything to go by, she’s just as shocked. Ginny pushes her way past them both and grumbles, “Don’t come crying to me,” as she stomps her way out of the shed.

In the silence that remains, Draco feels the need to apologize. “I can leave if it will make it easier on you. I’d hate to be cause of tension between you and your friend.”

“Ginny will get over it in time,” Luna assures him.

He isn’t inclined to believe her because, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen Ginerva at all since he started his arrangement with Potter. And based on the reaction he just witnessed, Draco would wager to bet that he’s the reason why. “If you’re sure,” he says uncertainly.

“Absolutely! Besides, I can always hold out on sex to speed the process along.”

Voldemort and Dumbledore could suddenly appear snogging each other and Draco would be less stunned than he is right now. He knows his eyes are blinking like an owl’s, but he seems to have lost the ability to do much else.

“Draco?”

He licks his slips, swallows, and still can’t make words come out.

“Draco? Are you alright?”

This time he manages to give a nod, head bobbing loosely.

“Which part makes you uncomfortable? The fact that I have sex with another woman or the fact that it’s Ginny?”

That gets him moving again. He throws his hands over his ears and shouts, “Sweet Salazar! Stop!”

“It’s perfectly natural, Draco, when two people respect each other and-”

“I SAID STOP! My father bumbled his way through ‘the talk’ years ago! I do not need a refresher! _Especially_ if it involves you and Weasley!” Luna pats his arm but she also laughs at him at the same time, making the gesture less comforting and more condescending. Draco slowly lowers his hands from the sides of his head and asks, “Can we just get to brewing, please?”

And get to brewing they do.

Luna shows Draco the set up she has in the small (or so it would seem) workshop. She has an extension charm on her supply cupboard and it’s actually so deep that they can both walk fully inside without bumping into each other or any of the shelves. She has multiple of every type of cauldron, stirring rod, and ingredient Draco can think of. Everything is spotlessly clean and meticulously organized. It would make Snape green with envy.

Then she tells him about her current projects. Draco is impressed to find that Luna studied and brewed almost every single day over the last few years to become a Potions Master with the help of Professor Slughorn. It’s supposed to be a title that comes from more than just a few years of training, but Luna’s done it sooner than anticipated.

Draco doesn’t want to offend her- and this time that’s the truth- but he just doesn’t know how that’s possible. Sure, Luna has never been one to do what’s expected of her but this is more than just being eccentric. “If you don’t mind me asking, when did you find out you were good at Potions? I only ask because Snape never said anything.”

“I found little to no interest in the potions that Snape wanted me to brew. Why would a rational person ever need to brew a Forgetfulness Potion or a Befuddlement Draught? I make potions that help people. Right now I sell ones with standard household applications, but I’d love to branch out into the medical field and that’s where I think you help me.”

It makes sense, really, when she says it like that. “Who trained you?”

“Professor Slughorn.” He pulls a face but Luna is having none of that. “You only disliked him because he doted upon Harry instead of treating him terribly as Professor Snape did.”

Wow. Leave it to Lovegood to read him perfectly. There’s nothing he can do besides hang his head and concede, “You’re right.”

The rest of the day seems to fly by. Luna’s father brings them lunch (a strange purple soup that Xenophilius swears is made from some sort of exotic yam) but otherwise they work nonstop through the day. By the time Draco has to leave to go see Elara, there are several cauldrons bubbling away and they have a long list of samples they plan to make to entice future customers. When he tells Luna that he’s headed to the centre to see Elara, she asks if she can join him.

“There’s something you have to know about her,” Draco says. Luna gives him her undivided attention. “She’s more than just a random little girl I happened to be placed with one a day when they were understaffed. She’s my sister.”

Luna gasps but it’s an excited gasp, with a smile breaking out across her face, and that’s enough for Draco to pour out the whole story.

“Mother had her without me or my father knowing. She gave her up to keep her safe and it worked. But now I’m trying to adopt her. They denied my application and now Potter is helping me. We got married, moved in together, and now that I work for you I think it will be enough for the directors to change their minds.”

“You should have told me,” Luna scolds.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t forthcoming with that information, but Potter and I thought it was best to keep it secret for now. If my deceit is too much to accept then I would understand if you no longer wish for me to work for you.” He hangs his head in shame and thinks not for the first time that he should have just kept his mouth shut.

“Draco.” She lifts his chin so she can look into his eyes. “One, you will be working _with_ me not _for_ me and two, I am so happy for you.”

“You’re not mad I’m using you for my own gain?”

“Do you want to work with me?”

“Of course. I’ve loved Potions for a long time.”

“Then I would be honored to play whatever small part I can in reuniting you with your sister. You have experienced such loss but now you’ve been given the chance to expand your family. And I’m sure the fact that it’s with Harry is a bonus.”

Draco pulls back so quickly he nearly topples over the work bench behind him. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” she says coyly. But when Draco continues to give her a particularly bewildered look she reconsiders her statement. “Perhaps you don’t know. Yet.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?!”

Luna just laughs this time. “Let’s go see that sister of yours.”

Thinking that Elara might be just the distraction he needs from Luna’s invasive accusations, Draco complies and apparates them both to the centre.

* * *

He takes the floo home that evening, tired from his magical use throughout the day. He never thought he’d have to get reacquainted with his wand like this and it makes him feel like a first year again. He crosses from the fireplace to the sofa and drops gracelessly onto the overstuffed cushions.

“Oi! That you?” Harry shouts from upstairs, making Draco roll his eyes so hard they threaten to roll straight out of his head.

“Stop yelling, you beast!”

Harry laughs as he jogs lightly down the stairs. “You can’t scold me about yelling by yelling yourself.”

“Says you.”

He laughs again and sits across from Draco in the threadbare armchair he insisted on bringing over from Grimauld Place. “How did it go today with Luna?”

“Brilliant. I told her about us and she went with me to meet Elara. Oh, and she’s shagging Ginerva, in case you were wondering.”

“Did you talk about Potions at all?” Harry asks with a roll of his eyes. “And yes, unfortunately, I knew that. Luna likes to overshare.”

“I just figured the two of you were still hot and heavy.”

“We broke up after sixth year. Is that what you and Luna did all day? Gossip about like a pair of bored housewives?”

It does not go unnoticed that Harry steers the conversation away from his and Ginny’s failed relationship. Draco lets it go; for now. “We _did_ do actual work, if that’s what you’re implying. I’ll be working with Lovegood full time so step three of our plan is officially complete.”

“That’s amazing, Malfoy! You should fill out another application with your updated information so you can bring Elara home as soon as possible.”

Draco wrings his hands together nervously. “I told her today.”

“About the possible adoption?”

“About her being my sister.”

Harry’s eyebrows fly up so high they practically disappear. He knows Draco didn’t want to tell Elara too much and get her hopes up, just to end up with a disappointed little girl should the worst happen. “Why the sudden urge?”

“Luna. She opened her big mouth and I didn’t want to lie, so I told Elara the truth.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“Whatever you say, Potter.”

The conversation lulls until Harry lets out a deep sigh. “Should we talk about what happened yesterday?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Harry laughs, the sound bright despite his nervousness. “Oh, you know, just that little thing where you told me I could see other people.”

Draco shrugs, choosing to examine his fingernails instead of looking at Potter directly. “Plenty of people have open marriages.”

“Is that what you want?”

He doesn’t get the chance to answer because the floo activates.

“Expecting someone?” Harry asks.

“Perhaps it’s Lucas,” Draco teases.

Harry doesn’t even have time to defend himself before two people are literally bounding out of the fireplace. And they are most definitely not ex-lovers of Potter.

Draco has a wand pressed to his throat before he has a chance to move for his own. “What have you done to him??” someone shouts.

He tries to move his eyes far enough to the side to see who has a hold of him but it’s no use. Thankfully, the other person’s comically bushy hair gives them both away. “Piss off, Weasel.”

“Answer me!” Ron yells as he shakes Draco by the shoulder, pressing the wand further into his skin.

“I haven’t done anything, you gormless wanker!” He cringes as pain blooms in his neck but then all at once it’s gone, as is Weasley’s grip on him.

Ron thuds to the ground as Harry’s _petrificus totalus_ hits him square in the back. Hermione moves towards him next but she’s stopped by another jinx, this time _locomotor wimbly_. She also lands on the ground, but with slightly more grace.

“What is the meaning of this?” Draco demands to know.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Harry insists.

“We came as soon as we heard the news,” Hermione says from her uncomfortable position on the floor. Her legs are still wiggling against her will but- unlike Ron- she’s able to speak.

“What news?” Draco asks her.

“The news about you and Harry getting married.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER! to be resolved next week


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a lot of progress on the end of the story so I feel comfortable updating 'earlier' than planned. Enjoy!

_From last chapter:_

_"We came as soon as we heard the news,” Hermione says from her uncomfortable position on the floor. Her legs are still wiggling against her will but- unlike Ron- she’s able to speak._

_“What news?” Draco asks her._

_“The news about you and Harry getting married.”_

* * *

Draco and Harry look at each other, and each sees the same panic echoed back in the other’s eyes. “How did you find out?”

“We may be in Australia, but word about something so big travels quickly through world ministries. _Finite Incantatem_ ,” she releases the jinx Harry put on her legs and sits up. “The Daily Prophet ran a special edition this morning and Ron’s department knew only a few hours later.”

“So, naturally, your first thought was to rush halfway across the globe and attack me?” Draco’s words are aimed at Ron, who is still lying frozen on the ground.

Hermione has the decency to look at least a little ashamed. “We didn’t know Malfoy was going to be here, so I didn’t know Ron was going to react like that. Please let him go, Harry.” And Draco could just about gag at the way she bats her eyes. Is that how Granger’s gotten her way with Weasley and Potter all these years?

Harry sighs and picks up his wand. “ _Finite Incantatem_ ,” he says almost reluctantly. Ron shakes out his limbs and pushes himself up as quickly as one who’s just been in a full-body bind can. He opens his mouth but Harry cuts him off before he even gets a word out. “You’ve told me how you found out, but how did you find us?”

“We went to Andi’s first, but we got worried when the entire place was packed up. I wanted to check the Manor.”

“But I stopped him,” Hermione butts in. “It made more sense to go to the Burrow.”

Harry’s fists are balled up at his sides and Draco swears he can hear his knuckles crack, even from across the room. “That still doesn’t explain why you think you can to rush halfway across the globe and hunt me down.”

“You can’t be married to Malfoy!” Ron shouts, waving his arms frantically at Draco.

“And what if I am?!”

Ron huffs and pulls at his hair in frustration. “You’ve truly gone mad this time!”

Draco has had enough. He moves around to stand at Harry’s side and wraps his arm around his waist. When Ron’s eyes threaten to bug out of his face, Draco takes delight in pulling Harry snug up against him. “That is enough out of you, Weasel. You are insulting my husband and I want you out of our home this instant.”

“HERMIONE! DO SOMETHING!”

She gives Ron an apologetic look but says, “I don’t know what you think I should do.”

A little voice breaks through their loud bickering and everyone turns to find the source. “Hah-yyyyy,” Teddy whines from the bottom of the staircase. He’s standing there in his little green pyjama set with the dinosaurs all over them. Draco finds it almost startling to see the boy’s hair in its natural state- a light sandy brown that he clearly inherited from his father.

Harry quickly sweeps Teddy up into his arms. The little boy sets his head on Harry’s shoulder and pulls his thumb into his mouth. Draco wonders what it is with kids and sticking fingers into their various face holes. Harry walks back over to where the rest are still standing in the middle of the room, stopping at Draco’s side. Teddy reaches over with his free hand, puts it on Draco’s face, and says, “Ma.”

Draco hopes that means ‘Malfoy’ and not that Teddy is calling him his mother. Harry gives him a soft smile and that’s confirmation enough that his cousin is trying to say his name.

Then Harry says to Ron, “You didn’t think this little plan of yours through and now you’ve disrupted the evening for all of us. If you think you can come back tomorrow with a level head then I would love to catch up with you and Hermione, but for now you will leave. Malfoy and I have to get Teddy back to sleep now.”

“Goodnight,” Hermione says quietly, taking Ron by the hand and practically dragging him towards the floo.

Ron says nothing, but his face remains pinched and angry even as they’re whisked away by the flames.

Draco watches Harry go back upstairs with Teddy- presumably to put him back to bed- and tries to process what’s happened in the last week. With how fast everything has been moving, he really hasn’t had the opportunity to reflect. They’ve only lived together a few days and they’re still at the point where they’re walking on eggshells around one another. Draco wants to help with Teddy but he isn’t sure what to do (and he’s certainly not about to show weakness by asking), and Harry often looks like he wants to say something but is holding himself back. It’s more awkward than either of them thought it would be. But now that Draco thinks of it…how could it be anything other than? They’re former school rivals turned spouses, but without any of the natural experiences that would take them from enemies to friends to something more.

There is no longer any sound emanating from the second floor so Draco deems it safe to venture upstairs. His own bedroom is through the last door on the left, making it necessary to walk past every other room on his way. He notices Teddy’s door still open and peeks in. The little boy is curled up in his bed with a handknit blanket pulled all the way up to his chin. Only his cute, round face and his hair (which is once again dark and wild) stick out.

Harry is sitting on the floor next to the low toddler bed, speaking softly, “…and then I asked the snake if he had ever been to Brazil but, sadly, it was raised in captivity which means he had only ever seen and lived in the zoo. I still don’t know how I did it- Hermione says it was accidental magic- but then the glass was gone and the snake was slithering away. And the thing I found most odd was not that the enclosure had just disappeared, but that the snake spoke. ‘Brazil, here I come.… Thanksss, amigo,’ he said to me. How he learned that word in Portuguese I’ll never know.”

Teddy, who had been giggling lightly when Draco first stopped to listen in, is now fast asleep- though the smile still remains on his face. Harry pushes himself to standing but then startles when he finds Draco looming in the doorway.

“My apologies for eavesdropping,” Draco says with a smirk. “I simply wanted to check on him. However, I find myself wanting to hear the beginning of that intriguing story.”

Harry shuffles his feet, looking down at them as he shrugs. “It’s nothing. I always tell him little stories. Sometimes they’re about me or my friends. Other times they’re about Remus and the Marauders.”

“The Marauders?”

“My dad, Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew. But I don’t know a whole lot of those that are appropriate for him to hear yet.”

“Perhaps you could write them down for Teddy to read as he gets older.”

Another shrug. “They’re just stories, Malfoy. They’re nothing worth writing down.”

“I bet people would fall over themselves to read about your life.”

“Because _that’s_ what I want; more notoriety.”

Draco strokes at his chin, a genuine idea forming on his mind. “It’s about more than fame. Perhaps it’s time you told the world about your encounter with snake at the zoo, that way you can bring light to Parselmouths and prove that they’re not all evil. People will listen to you. You could change public opinions.”

“Now you sound like Hermione.”

He shudders dramatically, earning a small laugh out of Harry. They quickly leave Teddy’s room and pull the door shut so that they don’t accidently wake him up again. They walk shoulder-to-shoulder as they head to their respective bedrooms. Draco looks back just one more time and says, “Think about it, Potter.”

* * *

Sleep does not come easy for Draco. Being caught off guard by Granger and the Weasel the night before really makes him uneasy. If they know because of international press, then everyone knows. And as much as he’s been telling himself this is a sham marriage, he has a strong urge to bond with his new family- not just Elara. How is he supposed to defend their relationship to anyone if he knows nothing about what Potter does all day with Teddy?

He wakes early the next morning and goes to the kitchen in hopes to prepare breakfast. Draco and Harry filled the cupboards together, so at least he knows where everything is. However, the kitchen is not as empty as he expects it to be.

Harry is already there, standing in only a pair of pyjama bottoms. His back is turned and Draco can’t help but track the movement of his back muscles as he struggles with something.

Draco forces his eyes to look anywhere else and makes his presence known by asking, “Are you always up so early?”

Harry grumbles and grunts in response. Draco figures maybe he’s just not a morning person until he turns around and it’s suddenly very obvious what is causing his struggle. An owl flies out of his grasp and heads directly for Draco. The bird lands on his shoulder and holds out his leg angrily.

“Don’t!” Harry warns.

It’s only then that Draco notices the red color of the envelope being carried by the owl. It bursts into flames thanks to Harry’s quick wand. The owl digs its talons into Draco’s shoulder and he yelps, ripping the bird from his shoulder and holding its wings to its body.

“I’ve been _incedio_ -ing them all night,” he says tiredly. “I didn’t want you to see.”

“Potter,” Draco sighs. “This isn’t your burden to bear alone.” He walks to the door and tosses the owl outside, where it immediately soars off into the sky. When he’s shut and locked the door, he leans against it and rubs at the bridge of his nose. “The Prophet is probably delirious over this and your best friends are mad at you. You wouldn’t even be in this mess if it weren’t for me, so we’re a team now.”

“But just yesterday you told me I could see other people.”

“Salazar save me!” Draco shouts to the ceiling. He immediately regrets it when he hears tiny footsteps above them. “I don’t care what you do in private so long as you are discreet, but we have to be unified whether you like it or not. So the next time you catch heat from someone, I want you to tell me. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night.”

Teddy runs into the kitchen then. He slams himself into Harry’s legs and starts babbling. Draco catches a few words that sound like various foods and that reminds him that he still doesn’t know what the boy eats. When he asks Harry tells him, “Andi used to make him porridge with bananas and for some reason he won’t eat anything else now.”

Draco can’t imagine eating the same thing day after day but he knows children can be finicky, especially those who have gone through what Teddy has. “And what about you?”

“Toast and tea.”

“That’s it?”

“Sometimes eggs,” he says with a shrug. “I’m not picky.”

“I’ll help, then.”

Harry gets out a cookpot and a canister of oats. He hands off a knife and loaf of bread to Draco, pointing him in the direction of a silver metal box. Draco knows an electrical cord when he sees one. He _knows_ this is something muggle. But as for its function? It must have something to do with making toast because that’s where Potter sent him. He pokes at it with a finger and a lever goes down before bouncing right back up again.

Draco jumps, making both Harry and Teddy laugh. “Arthur helped me set the toaster up,” Harry explains. “He wrote to Hermione and she taught him how to properly combine electricity with magic to make muggle items work.” He then goes on to show Draco how to correctly operate the toaster.

Draco burns the first few slices, but he eventually gets the hang of the appliance and is all too proud of himself as he sets down a plate full of toasted bread. Harry adds jam to the table and serves Teddy his breakfast. Then the kettle whistles and they all settle in.

“Are you going to see Weasley and Granger today?” Draco asks to break the silence.

Harry tries to get out of answering by busying himself with Teddy. He cleans the boy’s face and avoids eye contact, but that’s not going to work on his new husband.

“You take your time answering, Potter. Luna isn’t expecting me until tomorrow so I can wait all day.”

“Fine! Yes, I was planning on going to the Burrow. Molly will watch Teddy if I ask her.”

“Ma-ee!” Teddy cheers. “Ah-tah!”

Harry ruffles the boy’s hair, which has turned a fiery red at the mere mention of his Weasley grandparents.

“I’m coming with you,” Draco insists. And the way he says it leaves no room for argument. Narcissa would be proud.

* * *

Hermione and Ron are already at the kitchen table in the Burrow when Draco, Harry, and Teddy arrive. They’re wearing the same clothes as the day before and they’re a bit rumpled, as though they’ve been slept in. Draco thinks their plan to rush over and ‘save’ Harry didn’t involve an extra set of robes. Molly is as gracious a host as she always is. She welcomes everyone into her home and offers food (that they decline as they’ve just eaten breakfast) before quickly whisking Teddy away.

Draco makes a show of moving two of the empty chairs extremely close together. Then he pulls one of them out so that Harry can sit down- as any proper gentleman would for their spouse. He revels in the way Weasley’s face goes redder than his hair.

Hermione takes one of Ron’s hands and pats it. “Thank you for agreeing to see us, Harry. We weren’t sure you were going to come.”

“If only you hadn’t brought the Ferret.”

“Ronald,” Hermione scolds him quietly. “You promised.”

“He obviously has Harry under an _imperious_ ,” Ron spits out.

Harry looks at him as though he’s lost his mind. “I fought off the curse at fifteen. FROM VOLDEMORT. Do you really think I can’t do the same from Malfoy now?”

Ron grumbles something again and Draco’s had enough. He slams his hands on the table and demands everyone’s attention. “This is idiotic! What do you think I would accomplish by forcing Potter into a relationship with me?”

“Ha! Where do I even start?” Ron’s lip curls into a sneer. “You have nothing. The Ministry killed your whole family. Or, well, almost your whole family. Your mother took care of herself.”

There’s a split second where the room is completely still; Ron’s words still hanging in the air. Then Draco lets out a deep growl and a wave of raw magic pours off him, rattling the dishes on the shelves. The kitchen table splinters as a large crack rips down the middle. Hermione screams and throws her arms up to protect her face.

Harry reaches out and grabs Draco’s hand in an effort to reign in his magic. He isn’t sure it’s going to work until their bonding rings touch. There’s no visible band like there was in Kingsley’s office, but the comforting warm feeling is back. Draco gasps as everything snaps back into focus. All of his anger at Weasley is suddenly gone. His magic is no longer swirling around the room dangerously. The only thing that matters is the point where he and Potter are touching. Certainly they’ve touched before. So why is this time different?

Hermione lowers her arms slowly once she’s sure it’s safe, and her mouth falls open when she realizes what’s happened. “Oh Harry,” she breathes out. “What have you done?”

Ron shows his confusion plainly, but this time he’s not alone. Draco shares his look of bewilderment.

Harry knows she wants him to be ashamed but he doesn’t regret his choice. “Draco needed me.”

That’s the first time he’s called Malfoy by his first name, and perhaps that’s why Draco suddenly feels like he’s suffocating. He nearly rips his hand from Harry’s and runs out of the door and into the garden. On his way out, Draco can hear Ron state the obvious: “I don’t get it. What has Harry done?”

* * *

Draco takes his frustrations out on the dirt clods he finds in the garden, kicking them as hard as he can. He isn’t sure how long he’s outside. He also isn’t sure why he hasn’t left. He has a perfectly nice home he could return to, yet here he is. When the ground is all disrupted and flat, Draco finds a particularly soft patch of grass to sit on and leans up against a fence post.

Of all the people, it’s Arthur that eventually comes out to get him. “Molly wants to know if you’re staying for lunch.”

He scowls at the offer but his answer comes out soft. “I don’t want to ruin your family meal.”

Arthur leans against the fence post then too and looks down at Draco. “Harry explained everything to them. Hermione is only hurt that Harry didn’t tell them. And Ron is, well, Ron.”

Draco crosses his arms across his chest, though he’s careful not to wrinkle his finely knit jumper. “They hate me. And I don’t blame them for it. I wouldn’t blame any of you for hating me.”

“Son.”

That one word is all it takes for the tears to start falling. It’s like Narcissa’s funeral all over again. He doesn’t deserve any of this kindness; not from Arthur and Molly, not from Bill and Fleur, certainly not from Harry. He’s the reason so many people are dead. He’s nothing but a coward.

When he calms down enough open his eyes, Arthur reaches out his hands to help Draco up from the ground. “You’re not a bad person,” Arthur tells him. “You’re a person whom bad things have happened to. Don’t let your past dictate your future.”

“No offense, Mister Weasley, but what would you know about it?”

The last thing Draco expects him to do is laugh. “Surprising though it may seem, I was once a child as well. And though you’re right that I have not had the same experiences you have, I am not without my own regrets. I almost lost Molly because of my pride.”

Draco can’t believe it. The Weasleys are the picture-perfect couple. They met at Hogwarts, got married, and had a veritable army of children. He doesn’t realize he’s said that out loud until Arthur starts to laugh again.

“You have the facts right but the order wrong. Molly was with child before our wedding. When she told me, I panicked and left her.”

“No!” Draco gasps.

He nods sagely. “I regretted my decision the moment I walked away, but my pride kept me from going back for a full week. For seven days the woman I love thought I deserted her and our unborn child. I’m thankful that every day is another chance to prove I’ve changed.”

Draco understands the point of Arthur’s cautionary tale. Though he does not stay for lunch, he knows that he’ll never stop trying to make up for everything he’s done. And no one- especially not Ronald Weasley- is going to stop him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This picks up right where the last chapter left off.

Ron leaves that day- he’s still a junior auror and doesn’t get very much holiday time- but as a medical researcher, Hermione sets her own hours and is therefore able to stay. It’s over breakfast the next morning that Draco finds she’s much easier to deal with than the Weasel (though he sort of always figured that). Harry asks about what she’s researching and Hermione is more than happy to share her findings about the possibility of restoring memories.

“So you think you can find a way to reverse the effects of the _obliviate_ charm?” Draco asks, genuinely intrigued by Hermione’s work.

“That’s what I’m hoping. Wizarding medical practices are a little archaic at times, but muggles have done incredible work involving the brain. It’s a delicate, complex organ yet it has the fascinating ability to heal itself given time and the correct therapies.”

“That’s brilliant. What got you interested in this particular topic?” Hermione ducks her head, and when Draco looks to Harry he does the same. Draco has the sinking feeling that this is more than a casual interest for her. “I… apologize… if that’s a personal question.”

She takes a sip of tea, still avoiding eye contact. “I _obliviate_ -d my parents and sent them away so they couldn’t be targeted during the war. That’s why Ron and I are in Australia. We found them but, naturally, they don’t know who I am. Apparently you can’t just reverse the spell, but I refuse to believe that there’s nothing to be done.”

Draco reaches out a shaky hand and sets it on Hermione’s shoulder. “My condolences, Granger. I can’t even imagine if that were my own mother…” he trails off, remembering Ron’s cruel words the day before.

Hermione must be thinking the same thing because she apologizes on behalf of her boyfriend. “I know it may not mean much, but I am sorry for what Ron said to you.”

“He knew what would hurt me the most and he said it.” Then Draco turns to Harry, who is doling out a second helping of oats to Teddy. “I do hope Missus Weasley is not too upset about her table. I will purchase another as replacement- the nicest I can buy.”

Harry lets out a laugh so loud he almost drops the cooking pot. “You missed it! Molly made Ron fix it himself since it was his fault. He wasn’t allowed to use magic or anything!”

Draco takes pleasure in imagining the Weasel having to make up for his foolishness. The clock on the wall chimes, pulling him from his imagining and reminding him to leave for Luna’s. He sets his dishes in the sink with a promise to wash them upon his return and grabs his cloak. Teddy waves messy hands in his direction (hands that Draco promptly spells clean) so he leans down and kisses him on the forehead. He leans over Potter next but freezes halfway once he realizes what he’s doing. He pulls back so hard he almost topples over backwards. Thankfully Harry doesn’t seem to notice, but Hermione sure does. “Goodbye, Potter, Granger,” he says as he strides quickly to the door.

“Wait!” Harry calls after him. Draco stops but doesn’t turn around. “Don’t forget to complete the new adoption application.”

Draco was hoping to keep that particular thought off of his mind for now. “I already did. When I returned home without you yesterday I completed it and went to the post office to send it in.”

“In that case, good luck.”

Draco does look at him then. “Thank you, Potter. For everything.”

Hermione still has that peculiar expression on her face as he leaves.

* * *

Draco is so absorbed in his brewing that he completely forgets about stopping for a break. Luna has to cast a stasis charm on his cauldron just so he will get up and stretch his legs. He gratefully accepts the cup she’s offering, glad to see it contains tea.

“Thank you,” he tells her sincerely. “I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”

She smiles as she says, “I just knew you would like it! And you’re so good. Professor Snape must have taught you well.”

He feels a little wistful, remembering his godfather. That’s a fact he hasn’t shared with anyone before- not even his friends at Hogwarts (Draco never wanted anyone to think he was receiving preferential treatment; he earned his high marks all on his own thank you very much), but he trusts Luna will understand. He tells her, “Severus came to the Manor and taught me the basics when I was still quite young. Mother would always ask him to stay for dinner and he would always protest; it was like a game, who would crack first. Father would roll his eyes but he always had to hide a smile by the end.”

“Those are nice memories,” Luna says softly. She sets down her tea cup, gestures for Draco to do the same, and then takes his hand and leads him out of the potions shed and across the garden. They stop underneath an Alder tree and Draco gets an odd sense of déjà vu. It only intensifies when Luna kneels down and sets her hand gently on the mounded earth before them.

“My mum liked to experiment with spells. She was brilliant, always dreaming up something new or improved. She also liked to experiment with potions. She thought there was a way to combine the two, though that would ultimately be the cause of her death.”

Draco wishes he could turn back the clock and take back every mean thing he ever did or said to Luna. Her bubbly personality and odd demeanor made her not only an easy target, but it also made it more difficult for anyone to notice how much she was grieving. Perhaps that’s why she and Potter got on so well. Draco wishes he could take back how much he hurt him as well. But he can’t. And in the here and now? He doesn’t know what else to say besides, “I bet she was lovely.”

“She was,” Luna replies, and though her tone is sad her smile is genuine.

On their way back to the shed, Draco stops and spells down a few dirigible plums for them to snack on. Then they get back to their brewing and the rest of the day flies by as Draco once again gets absorbed in his work.

* * *

And so the weeks pass. Draco gets used to the little routine he’s formed: he and Harry make and eat breakfast together, then Draco leaves for work where he and Luna’s friendship continues to grow as quickly as their potions abilities, meanwhile Teddy spends the day with Potter doing who knows what, and when Draco’s done brewing he goes to visit Elara (sometimes alone, a lot of the time with Teddy, and a few times with Potter as well).

He gets used to when Mister Lovegood pops in to the work shed and talks incessantly about some creature Draco would swear doesn’t actually exist. He even gets used to Ginny coming by after practices, smelling like a wild animal and refusing to keep her physical relations with Luna appropriate in their workspace.

* * *

“What are you making?”

Draco curses as he drops the ground lacewing flies into the cauldron all at once instead of sprinkling them in like he was supposed to. The half-brewed potion turns a violent red color and starts to bubble dangerously. He throws a shield charm up just in time for the whole thing to explode.

“What were you thinking?!” he screams at whoever it is that risked their lives and destroyed his work. He whips around to glare at the intruder and of course it’s Potter. At least he has the decency to cower away from Draco, with his back pressed up against the shed.

“I’m sorry,” he says with his hands held up.

“Sorry? You’re _sorry_?? You could have killed us!”

“And I’ll think of that next time! But I really am sorry for any danger I may have accidently put you into.”

Draco doesn’t want him to be sorry. Draco wants to stay mad. But nothing bad happened, and if he can forgive Potter for cursing him and leaving him for dead on the wet floor of a Hogwarts’ toilet, then he can forgive him for this.

“What are you even doing here?” he asks with exasperation (but without any lingering anger).

Harry looks at his watch before answering, “It was getting late and I was wondering if you wanted to go see Elara before the centre closes.”

Draco looks at his own watch then and pales at the time. He quickly vanishes the destroyed cauldron and lingering mess on the work bench. “She’ll be upset if I don’t get there!” he says more to himself than anything. “How could I lose track of time like this? And where is Teddy?”

He’s already taken his cloak off the hook by the doors and is closing up the garden shed. Harry has to practically jog to catch up to him. “Luna took him inside. He likes Xeno.”

“That man is an oddity.”

Harry couldn’t have put it better himself and agrees, “He certainly is.”

* * *

They stop by the front desk to say hello to Lisa and to ask about the status of their adoption. “It’s still on the pile,” she says just like every time. Draco doesn’t like the pity in her voice and he leaves Harry and Teddy there in favor of seeing his little sister.

Elara is on Draco the moment he steps into the room. Ever since he told her that he was her older brother- a term he still can’t believe belongs to him- she’s been peppering him with questions about their family. He doesn’t want to lie to her, but she’s only four (though Elara is quick to correct him because she’s _“almost five, Draco”_ ). So he doesn’t tell her about the Death Eaters or the war.

Instead Draco tells her about warm summers in the Manor gardens, when he was only knee high and chased after his grandfather’s prized white peacocks. He tells her about when he and Theodore would hide from Pansy in the third floor bedroom wardrobes instead of playing with her like their mothers wanted them to.

Today, Draco shows her the family picture that he usually keeps tucked into the corner of his wardrobe mirror. Elara comments that their mother was beautiful and, indeed, Narcissa was. In the photograph her graceful neck is adorned with jewels and her long hair- so much like Elara’s- is swept up on the top of her head. But she always looked like that. The reason why Draco keeps this picture in particular is because of how soft Lucius’ expression is. In the photograph he’s smiling down at his wife and son with such adoration it’s nearly heartbreaking.

Elara points to their father and asks, “Was he nice?”

His blood runs cold as his mind jumps to the image of Lucius standing over him while the Dark Lord proclaims that he must teach Draco a lesson. But, no; that’s not his father. They were all forced into positions they were unwilling to fill- just like when Draco was charged to kill Dumbledore. He replaces the dark memories with ones from _before_. Like when Lucius would sneak him biscuits when his mother told him no snacks before dinner. Or when he would let Draco stay up late so they could lie out under the night sky and study the constellations together.

“He was,” Draco says in a quiet voice. And he believes that. “He was strict, always expecting a lot from me and pushing me to be the best representation of a pureblood heir, but he loved me.” He pushes the hair back from Elara’s face and tucks it behind her ear. She smiles up at him and he knows in an instant that Lucius would have loved her too. “I’m sorry you won’t know them.”

“You’ll just have to keep telling her stories,” Harry says, causing Draco to jump in shock for the second time in one day.

“Potter, what is it with you sneaking up behind people?”

“I wasn’t sneaking.”

“You certainly were!”

“I wasn’t! I’ve been right here for a few minutes, you just didn’t see me!”

“Because you snuck!”

Teddy and Elara watch the two bicker animatedly. Teddy’s hair keeps going from black to blonde and back again, making Elara giggle. And who can keep arguing when they hear the laughter of children?

Draco looks from the kids to Potter and mumbles, “Sorry.” Then he picks up Elara and settles her on his hip. “Do you remember Mister Potter?” he asks.

She nods her head. “‘cept he said to call him ‘Harry’.”

“We’re going to be living together,” Harry defends himself with a shrug. “It would be weird to be called ‘Mister Potter’ all day!”

Okay, he has a point. “Then you may call him Harry,” he concedes to Elara. “And what else do you remember about him?”

“He’s not Teddy’s daddy but he takes care of him _like_ a daddy.”

“Correct. He’s also my husband.”

“What’s that mean?”

“That means we’re married. We live together and we take care of Teddy together.”

“Like mummies and daddies?”

Draco lets out a breath before he answers, “Yes.”

“Mummies and daddies come to ‘dopt us. ‘cept they don’t ‘dopt me.”

Her words make him feel like he’s shattering inside. He clutches her tightly and when she grips him back just as close, he knows what he has to say. No child deserves to go through any amount of their life thinking that nobody wants them.

“I want to ‘dopt- I mean _adopt_ \- you.” He glances over at Potter, who’s standing teary-eyed with Teddy in his own arms. He gives an almost imperceptible nod which prompts Draco to add, “Harry and I both want you to come home with us.”

Elara reaches a hand out to Harry so he steps closer and puts an arm around her as well. Teddy nuzzles into her side and for a moment they just stand there. Then a woman clears her throat. Draco makes a mental comparison to that nasty woman Umbridge, but he knows she’s rotting away in the same prison he spent his two-year sentence in. This woman is much taller and less toad-like than their former professor (if one can even call her that).

“Missus Farley,” Harry greets her as he pulls away from Draco.

“Hello, Mister Potter. I’m so glad I caught you before you left for the day!”

“What can I help you with?”

The woman- Draco wonders if she’s any relation to Gemma Farley, who was a Slytherin a few years ahead of him at Hogwarts- looks nearly giddy. She’s beaming at Potter in a way that’s almost unsettling. “The directors had an emergency meeting this evening and I’m pleased to tell you that we’ve accepted your adoption application!”

“ _His_ adoption application?” Draco seethes. He shouldn’t be surprised that once again he’s been overlooked for bloody Potter.

“Oh- er- well-” she stammers. “I suppose it’s your application as well, Mister Malfoy, I was simply-”

“You were simply making it clear that nothing has changed as everyone still bends over backwards to please Harry Potter,” he interrupts her. “Does it matter at all to you that this child is my sister? My _blood_? She could have been with me for  months, but my application was denied until Potter was added to it!”

The woman really starts to get flustered now. She smooths down her robes to give her hands something to do and looks to Harry for help, but Draco is pleased to note that Potter is clearly on his side with this one. He’s looking down his nose at her in a way that Draco finds eerily similar to how his father would when dealing with someone below him.

“I believe he asked you a question, Missus Farley.”

She twists her hands together nervously as stammers through several flimsy excuses. Draco does try to be patient but he reaches his limit and blurts, “So when can we take her with us?”

“There is usually a process that includes supervised outings, home visits, and overnights. But since- as you’ve already pointed out- she is a direct blood relation to you, we are going to waive that. Elara’s caseworker is still required to do an inspection of your home, so when you’re ready for that we’ll schedule an appointment and-”

“Now."

“Excuse me?”

“We’re ready now.”

Again, she looks to Harry and again, he backs up Draco with only his body language.

“I’ll…go call her in. Thank you, gentlemen.” She practically runs out of the room.

* * *

The inspection goes flawlessly and, come the next morning, they get to surprise Elara by bringing her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy chapter ending! Finally ;-p


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you've been waiting; fall term is starting and I'm super busy. Things should settle in over the next week or so and the remaining chapters should be posted. Thanks for reading!

Elara loves everything about her new home. She loves her bedroom- not only does it have a door directly into Draco’s room, but he also tells her she can decorate it any way she chooses. She loves the sitting room- complete with an overflowing toy chest that Teddy is eager to show her. She loves the garden- with its tall grasses and shady trees she’s just itching to play in. She loves the lake- where Harry promises to teach her and Teddy (and Draco, though he says to keep that bit a secret) how to swim next spring when it gets warm. And she loves the kitchen- so sunny and inviting and filled with yummy smells.

It isn’t until she asks what’s cooking that Draco smells it too. Neither he nor Harry had the time to prepare anything more than Teddy’s usual mush that morning, and they’ve been so focused on Elara ever since that they didn’t notice until now. “Did you leave something to bake in the oven?” Draco questions.

“No, but I have a feeling I know who did.” Harry plucks a folded note from the center of the kitchen table that they must have overlooked in their earlier excitement.

> I wanted to give you time together as a new family, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t at least cook something for you. I hope you don’t mind we popped in while you were gone. The casserole should keep warm until lunch time. Use stasis charms if you’re not planning on eating until later.
> 
> Arthur and I can’t wait to meet your little girl. Send an owl when you’re ready.
> 
> Love, Molly.

Draco’s touched, though not surprised, at the Weasley matriarch’s gift. Acts of service are clearly her love language.

Elara pulls gently on Harry’s sleeve and asks, “Who’s Molly?”

Harry is suddenly at a loss for words. How does he describe what she is to him? She’s so much more than his best mate’s mum. Draco must see the conflict on his face because he comes to his aid and explains, “Molly and her family adopted Harry a long time ago.”

“You’re ‘dopted like me?”

“Y-yes.” Harry seems to have found his voice back, though it’s thin and laced with sadness. “My parents died when I was even littler than Teddy. I stayed with my aunt and uncle until I went to Hogwarts. That’s where I met Ron. He must have told his parents about me because his mum- that’s Molly- made me presents and started watching out for me. She’s sort of like my mum now.”

“Can she be _my_ mum tooooo?”

The extra o’s at the end of the word are endearing, but it just reminds Draco of how much Elara has had to live without. He kneels down beside her and says, “She already has loads of children- and besides, you have us to take care of you now- but I bet if you ask really nicely she’d let you call her ‘Gran’ like Teddy and Victoire do.”

“Who’s Vic- Vic- that person?”

Harry chuckles lightly. “I call her Vicki.”

“And she’s Molly’s granddaughter,” Draco adds.

“Another GIRL?!” Elara lets out an excited squeal and starts to jump up and down.

Neither man has the heart to tell her that Victoire is only a year old. She’ll find out eventually.

After lunch Harry puts Teddy down for his afternoon nap. Draco asks Elara if she’s used to taking naps and, like a typical four-year-old, she says no despite rubbing at her eyes. He chuckles as he takes her by the hand and leads her upstairs to her bedroom. “Well, how about you lie in bed and rest so Teddy doesn’t feel like we’re having all sorts of fun without him? You don’t have to sleep if you’re not actually tired. You can just relax.”

Elara works her mouth around as she thinks it over. But she eventually agrees, so long as Draco reads her a story. Like he’d ever say no.

He gets Elara tucked into her little bed with the ruffled white sheets. She already said that she’d like purple ones better and Draco plans to floo order some as soon as they have the chance. “Any story in particular?” he asks, but Elara just shakes her head.

He picks a worn copy of _Beedle the Bard_ from the shelf that he kept from his own childhood. He flips through the pages and starts reading ‘The Fountain of Fair Fortune’. Elara is asleep before he gets to the end.

Draco looks down at his sister and is suddenly overwhelmed by the reality that she’s here. She’s really, actually here in his home. He gives her a soft kiss on the forehead before leaving her room as quickly as he can. He considers hiding in his room with a stiff drink. But no, it’s only mid-day and there are children depending on him. Coffee it is then.

Draco hurries to the kitchen and starts the kettle boiling. The methodical process is just what he needs to distract himself. He lets his mind go blank as he scoops grounds into the French press and waits for the water to boil. Another few minutes and he’s resting in his wingback chair with his cup of dark roast in hand. Draco lets out a sigh as he breathes in the rich aroma. This is just what he needed. But when he lifts the cup to take a drink, his bonding ring clinks against the ceramic.

Some days, Draco doesn’t even remember he’s wearing the silver ring. Other days, it hangs on his finger like a lead weight. Since Minister Shacklebolt married them, Draco has had little interaction with the wizard world (really just their friends and orders via the floo). He knows that Harry still vanishes the hate mail they’re receiving. He can’t pretend like everyone has just forgotten that _The Chosen One_ has run off with a Death Eater.

The ring is beautiful, sure, but it symbolizes how once again Draco has ruined someone’s life. He sets his coffee down and glares at the ring menacingly.

“I know how you feel,” Harry says as he walks into the room. He sits in front of him- on the stylized footstool that Draco likes to pretend he doesn’t use- and holds out his coordinating golden ring. “I don’t even know why I wear it when I’m here or at the Burrow, but the time I took it off it just felt…”

“Odd,” Draco fills in the blank for him. He had the same experience.

Harry nods but then he’s worrying his lip between his teeth. “I talked to Hermione about it.” His eyes snap up to Draco’s. “She says a marriage bond was more than we thought it was.”

Draco’s brow furrows. That can’t be right. They did their research and it was definitely not as strong as bonding their souls together. But Granger is nothing if not thorough so he asks, “What exactly did she tell you?”

“She said that a marriage bond was traditionally used during arranged marriages. It was a way to ensure that neither party would try to leave or break off the marriage.”

“Alright…but we signed that charmed parchment swearing that we were doing this without duress and of our own free will.”

“Even still, the bond is the same.”

“Then what did Granger think was so outstanding about it?”

Harry’s really starting to look nervous now, though he refuses to break eye contact with Draco. “She said that the bond can’t compel us to do something we wouldn’t normally do, but it can…” he searches for the right words, “…loosen inhibitions?”

“So, what? I’m going to suddenly want to jump your bones?”

He coughs and his face flushes clear up to the tips of his ears. “I don’t think so. Hermione said it was more about fostering love than lust. A good marriage- any healthy relationship, really- doesn’t have to involve sex of any kind. But it does have to have respect.”

Draco does a mental recall of the weeks and months that he’s been married to Harry. Have they really not had any fights? There’s been disagreements, sure, like the time Harry tried to get Draco to go to the Leaky with him and Neville. Harry pushed the issue at first, but Draco put his foot down and Harry eventually conceded and went without him. And then there was the time they got into a heated debate of crups vs dogs. Yet neither of those times ended in a true fight.

“We have been getting along a lot better than I had originally anticipated. Not that I planned on starting arguments or anything.”

A smirk appears at the corner of Harry’s mouth. “No, I get it. I thought we’d have more trouble, too, given our past and all.” He takes Draco’s left hand in his own, twining their fingers together so their rings touch like they did that day at the Burrow. That same feeling of warmth spreads through them. “It’s giving us the ability to see past ourselves and really think about what the other person is saying.”

“We could have used this at school,” Draco mutters. Then he sinks into the chair, reveling in the feeling and pulling their still-connected hands with him.

Harry topples off of the footstool and lands in Draco’s lap. He’s suddenly very close, and Draco is very aware of the way Harry feels atop him. He doesn’t hate it. But he hates what he does next. He stands up so quickly that he knocks Harry to the floor. “I have to…” he trails off, not able to think of even a single excuse. He takes off before he’s forced to give an actual reason and heads straight for his room. Once inside he casts a locking charm and leans back against the door, trying to convince himself that his desire for Potter is just because of the bond.

* * *

Christmas is only two weeks away and Luna tells Draco to not even think about coming back to work until after the new year, so he has plenty of time to spend with his sister. That works out well since Harry decides that they should start introducing Elara to the Weasleys a few at a time now so that she’s not overwhelmed come the holiday. Draco admits that it’s a good idea, but he isn’t thrilled about having Ron and Ginny over to his home.

He’s thankful to start with his favorite of the Weasleys.

Molly comes bearing gifts (even with Christmas around the corner) of boxes and boxes of clothes. “They were Ginny’s,” she tells Draco when he starts to protest, “and Victoire is still too young. I’m sure they’re not in style anymore, but I’d feel better knowing someone was wearing them.”

Elara’s eyes light up as she pulls out a particularly ruffled party dress. “It’s so pretty! Thank you, Granny Molly.”

Her breath catches at the moniker.

“I hope it’s alright,” Harry says quickly. “She asked earlier and-”

“I’d be honored.” She pulls Elara into a hug, a watery smile stretched across her face.

Draco knows that Molly is excited to have another girl in the family. He can practically see her brain scheming up new ways to dote on her granddaughters.

Arthur entertains Elara as he does everyone, with stories of his muggle ‘discoveries’ and the items he’s been tinkering with. It seems he’s acquired another automobile, though he’s promised Molly that he won’t make this one fly. No one believes him.

Harry puts on an over-the-top pout when he says, “That’s too bad. I was hoping you could help me fix up Sirius’ old bike.”

Arthur lights up like a boy in a candy shop who’s just been told that he can get anything he wants. Harry tells him that the motorcycle is locked up in the cellar at Grimmauld Place, but that come spring he was planning on bringing it here to start working on it. Arthur is giddy at the prospect of helping- a fact that would make Molly nervous if she weren’t so pleased to see Harry excited about something. She used to worry that he didn’t have any direction in his life; no career, no home to call his own, no close personal relationships, not even any hobbies. Now he has so much and she couldn’t be happier for him.

Molly insists on cooking while they’re over, though she does something Harry has never seen her do before: she accepts help. Elara asks to assist and Molly pulls over a kitchen chair for her to stand on, that way she’s tall enough to reach the bench. She lets Elara do the safe/easy tasks like stirring and pouring and she enjoys every minute of it.

Arthur uses the time to talk Quidditch with the boys. It turns out that he and Draco have the same favorite team. Harry’s never seen the Wimbourne Wasps play, but now he knows what to get Arthur and Draco for Christmas.

* * *

Fleur and Bill are next. She invites them over to Shell Cottage for dinner. Draco’s glad for the change of scenery. He’s also glad that their home is just secluded as his own. He may be introducing his sister to the Weasleys but he’s not ready to face the rest of the wizarding world quite yet.

Elara begs to play on the beach but it’s just too cold. Instead, they play inside with a large set of wooden blocks that are currently Vic’s favourites. Elara helps Teddy build towers that Victoire is delighted to knock over. The three laugh every time before starting the whole process over again.

“It vill be good for her to ‘ave another gerl around,” Fleur says fondly as she watches them interact.

Harry asks Fleur about how her family is doing, so Draco takes the opportunity to pull Bill off to the side of the room. “I know it was months ago but I want to officially thank you for coming to my mother’s memorial service,” he tells him. “And everything since then.”

“You don’t need to thank me. No one deserves to go through something like that alone.”

“Well, know that is was appreciated.” Draco swallows loudly before he adds, “I also want to apologize.”

Bill can’t keep the confusion out of his voice when he asks, “What have you done?”

Draco gestures to the scars that mar his otherwise flawless complexion (Bill is the least freckly of all the Weasleys, favoring his father’s skin tone). “You would never have been attacked were it not for me.”

“Draco, they’re just scars. Greyback succeeded in neither turning me nor killing me.”

“But it’s all my fault. If I had simply refused to fix the Vanishing Cabinet…” he trails off, knowing that was never really a viable option. Voldemort threatened to kill him and his parents should he fail. But he feels responsible for the ensuing battle nonetheless.

“Oi, stop that.” Bill’s voice is soft as he sets his hands on Draco’s shoulders. He gives him a soft shake for emphasis. “They would have found their way in with or without you. You were merely a pawn in his game. And I chose to be there. To fight. I put myself in harm’s way knowing that I could be injured or worse.”

“How can you not be mad?”

Bill turns him so that Draco can see Harry and Fleur deep in conversation as well as the children playing beyond them. “That’s why.” Then he ruffles Draco’s hair and rejoins his wife on their sofa.

Harry catches Draco’s eye and winks at him, knowing exactly what the Weasley-hair-ruffle means: he’s been accepted as one of the brothers.

* * *

George, as it turns out, is more of an agorabphobe than Draco. They floo into the flat above the renovated Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes shop to visit him.

“Unc’a ‘Orsh!” Teddy shouts, making grabby hands for him and already changing his hair to match. And what spectacular hair it is.

Half of George’s head is shaved and the other half is dyed purple. Add to that the piercings (one through his lip and another through his eyebrow) and the tattoos (an entire sleeve and what appears to be a large piece on his chest partially visible under his collar), and he doesn’t even look like the same person anymore. Sure, Harry warned Draco that he’d changed but he still wasn’t expecting… _this_. Perhaps that’s the point.

George nuzzles into Teddy’s neck, buzzing his lips to make the little boy laugh. “Hiya, champ. I like the look.” He shifts Teddy to one side and gives Harry a side hug of his own. “Always good to see my favourite investor.”

Harry laughs at the same old joke, “I’m your only investor.”

“And therefore my favourite!” He looks to Draco and his expression cools significantly. Draco doesn’t reach for his wand but he’s definitely still wary. “Hullo, Malfoy.”

“Weasley,” Draco replies in kind. Though once the words leave his mouth, he doesn’t like the bite in his own voice. He clears his throat and tries again. “George. Thank you for inviting us into your home.”

“Friends of Harry’s-” he cuts himself off. “I mean, _family_ of Harry’s are always welcome.”

“All the same, thank you.”

George’s face softens again as he sets down Teddy and kneels down before Elara. “And this beautiful girl must be my new niece.” He holds out his hand and formally introduces himself. Then he says, “Mum told me you’re the best helper around. Do you want to help me in my shop today?”

Elara giggles as she shakes his hand. “I do want to help!”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Draco worries. He saw firsthand the Weasleys’ joke creations at Hogwarts and he doesn’t want his sister around things so dangerous.

“Loosen up, Malfoy,” George teases him. Then he leans in conspiratorially and whispers, “ _I’m just going to show her around. The worst she’ll touch is a pygmy puff._ ”

Great. Now he looks like the no-fun one. He tries (and fails) to not sound grumpy when he says, “Fine,” and then watches as George flounces down the stairs with Elara holding onto one hand and Teddy the other.

When they’re alone, Harry settles his hands on his hips and asks, “Was that the best you could do?”

“He hates me!” Draco whines.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He does. And he has every right to. His brother is dead and it’s all my fault.”

Harry reaches for his hand. Draco needs the comfort and he knows it. “You have to stop saying that.”

“It’s true.”

“Not it’s not! If anything, it’s my fault.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. And just how do you suppose it’s your fault when you’re the one who ended it all?”

“I could have killed him sooner and then all those people would still be alive!”

Draco blinks several times as he tries to process the words. Does Potter really think that? Does he truly believe the casualties of the war are his fault? That their untimely fates rest on his shoulders? The sad look on his face seems to confirm it.

“Pott- Harry…there’s nothing more you could have done. You do know that, right?”

“But if I had just figured it out a littler earlier…we wandered for months! You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.”

So Harry leads Draco over to the sofa, careful to move the various bits and bobs that seem to litter every surface of George’s flat, and he begins to tell him everything. About the horcruxes, about the hunt, about litres of polyjuice, about dying.

Draco doesn’t speak, though he does hold Harry’s hand (and it seems that their rings don’t even have to touch anymore to feel that comforting glow from their bond). And when Harry’s done, he wraps him in the tightest hug he’s ever given. Words are hard to come by. Everything he thinks to say sounds inconsequential after the tale he’s just heard.

Harry breaks the silence with a quiet, “So now you understand.”

Draco pulls back, but only so he can take Harry’s face in his hands. He looks him straight in the eye and tells him, “I understand that you have suffered terribly. The only other way this could have ended was with him winning, but you stopped him. And as for not doing everything possible? Do you remember in the Room of Requirement? You saved me. You could have left me and Greg to die but you convinced the Weasel to come back and save us. That counts for something.”

“But so many others died!” Harry cries.

“And you think they died for you? Oh, the great Harry Potter! Everyone should bow down at his feet! Forget fighting in the war, just throw yourselves down upon your own swords to please Harry Potter!”

Harry pushes Draco away and anger clouds his face. “Stop it! Tonks was an auror! She fought to the very end to make the world better! And so did Fred! And Colin! All of them did!”

“Exactly.” He sits back smugly, smirking at him. Harry’s mouth drops open and Draco has to fight the urge to pump his fist in the air triumphantly. “You’re not the reason they’re dead, Harry.”

The tears start quietly, trickling from his eyes without a sound. But he’s not pinched with anger anymore. “But…”

“No ‘but’s. It’s sad but it’s not your fault.”

Harry starts to crumble, a loud cry ripping from somewhere deep inside, but Draco catches him. He cradles Harry to his chest and repeats it like a mantra, “It’s sad but it’s not your fault.” He rubs at his back and keeps saying it over and over again, hoping it will sink in. Eventually the tears do stop, though he keeps himself neatly tucked under Draco’s chin until George comes back upstairs with the children.

George raises an eyebrow at them, but he no longer looks like he wants to hex Draco so that’s a plus.

It’s another sleepless night for Draco. He’s just finished checking on Elara again, who is snoring softly in that endearing way that small children often do, when he hears a clunking sound coming from the kitchen. He quietly tip-toes down the stairs and finds Harry at the table with a steaming cup in his hands.

“Trouble sleeping too?” Draco’s voice rings out in the room.

Harry doesn’t look up from his cup. “Nightmares.”

Draco winces sympathetically. “I apologize if our earlier conversation was the catalyst.”

He just shrugs. “It happens a couple times a week.”

“We’ve lived together for months. Why have you never said anything?”

“It used to be worse, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You can bother me. Not that it’s really a bother, I just mean that you can tell me.”

“Sure, I’ll just pop over to your room and wake you up every time I have a bad dream.”

“That’d be fine.”

Harry looks at him as though flobberworms are crawling out of his ears. “And how do you think that would help?”

“Sometimes it’s easier if you’re not alone.”        

He’s quiet for a bit before saying, “You’d just…let me stay?”

“You’ve done so much for me, it’s the least I could do in return.”

Harry wordlessly (and wandlessly, Draco marvels) sends his cup to the sink before standing up. He takes Draco’s hand and walks up the stairs with him in tow. He hesitates just slightly outside of the bedrooms, so Draco pushes his door open and pulls Harry in after him.

“Are you certain?” Harry asks to be certain.

He’s really, really not. But he answers in the affirmative anyway. “Positive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys are so touch-starved and they don't even know it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a loads going on and it moves pretty quick. I just had a lot of a ideas.

Draco has to go shopping for Christmas presents. He plans on spoiling Elara and Teddy as much as Harry will allow him to (though if the amount of toys Teddy already has is any indication, then there won’t be any pushback on the matter). Draco also wants to buy gifts for all of the Weasleys- even the ones who aren’t too keen on him yet. Mother always said that the best way to ingratiate oneself was to first show gratitude and then to back up the gratitude by laying on a healthy dose of flattery.

So off to Diagon Alley he must go. But that’s easier said that done. He asks Harry to watch Elara for a few hours after dinner and then prepares to go out. Draco’s hands shake as he drops the floo powder in. It’s been so long since he’s interacted with anyone besides Potter and the Weasleys. He hates to admit it but he’s scared. He panics at the last moment and shouts out the Lovegoods’ floo address. He stumbles out (something he usually mocks Harry for) and is surprised to find not Luna, nor Xenophilius, but Ginny.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?”

Draco notices that while her voice holds confusion, which is quite understandable, it doesn’t hold its usual bite. Now that he thinks of it, her she’s been far less mean as of late.

“Well?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Luna and Xeno are out chasing down a… Hornsnackler… or something, and it’s my day off so I may as well hang out here. Now. Answer my question.”

He considers ignoring her. He considers leaving the way he came. He considers firing a hex at her and running away. But in the end he’s simply too tired to do anything other than tell her the truth, “I’m avoiding Diagon Alley.”

“Then why come here?”

“I didn’t plan to! It just happened!”

“That’s a good way to get splinched.”

“You’d care if I got splinched?”

Ginny’s face goes red and she crosses her arms across her chest fiercely. “NO!”

The corner of Draco’s mouth twitches up in a smirk. “You _do_ care about me.”

“In your dreams, Malfoy.”

He gives a chuckle but then it dies in his throat. He still doesn’t know what to do about his gift shopping.

“Do you, umm,” Ginny coughs, “want me to go with you?”

You could blow Draco over with a sneeze. “Really?”

She stands up, grabs her handbag from the arm of the sofa, and crosses to the floo. “Don’t make me change my mind,” she says without even looking back.

* * *

It’s a disaster.

At first, Draco is optimistic as Ginny accompanies him to Slug & Jiggers. The shop is not busy and the clerk behind the counter doesn’t seem to care who is buying so long as they have the galleons. Their next stop is Amanuensis Quills. Draco thinks he can hear someone whispering about him, and his suspicions are confirmed when Ginny whispers at him to hurry up.

Draco still wants to go to Flourish and Blotts and Eeylops Owl Emporium, but he doesn’t get to either. A crowd forms at the end of the lane just outside of the animal shop and he can’t get to the door. Ginny shields Draco from the crowd- he thinks she would make a great auror, if she weren’t too busy playing Quidditch and shagging his boss- but then someone shouts, “DEATH EATER SCUM!” and Draco’s shoulder radiates with pain as a hex hits it. Ginny grabs him by the arm and he feels the familiar pull of apparition.

Draco looks around and realizes that she’s taken him to George’s flat (which is blessedly empty). He checks himself out in the bathroom mirror. Ginny insists on looking at his shoulder, though he assures her it doesn’t hurt anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she says when she’s convinced he’s going to live.

“Why?”

“I really thought you were just being dramatic, but that…that was bad, Malfoy.”

He snorts derisively, “You think? This is why I never leave our home.”

“Well, like I said, I’m sorry. You weren’t doing anything wrong and you…just don’t deserve that.” Draco doesn’t know how to adequately reply so he just nods his head in what he hopes is perceived as appreciation. Ginny rocks on her feet and says, “I let Harry know what happened while you were in there, just so you know.”

He thanks her and heads for the floo, knowing that Potter will be on him the second he gets there.

* * *

“How bad was it?” Harry asks as soon as Draco steps in.

Draco doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he opens a cupboard and pours two generous glasses of firewhiskey. He hands one to Harry before dropping to the floor and leaning back against his legs. “Poorly,” is all he says.

Harry gives a humorless laugh. “Owls-with-howlers poorly? Or front-page-of-the-Prophet poorly?”

“Both.” He tips back his glass and downs the alcohol in one gulp. “Look, Potter. If it’s easier we can get a divorce. You can blame me for everything and you’ll get your good public standing back.”

Harry gives him a wholly disbelieving look. “You’d lose Elara. Is that what you think I want?”

“Of course not! But everybody knows I’m a burden, a weight dragging you down.”

“Funny, I thought we were friends.” Draco gives him a look like that thought had never occurred to him before. “And besides, I would never do something that would jeopardize your custody of your sister. I care about you two.”

Not for the first time, Draco is overwhelmed by how much Harry and the others truly make him feel welcome. “Thank you, Potter. For everything.”

Harry hums a response before settling into the sofa with a wiggle. Draco rests against his legs once again. And even though his back protests the next morning, he sleeps soundly through the night.

* * *

Draco has happy memories of Christmas at the Manor, yet it was undoubtedly a formal affair. Christmas at the Burrow is quite a different event altogether. He figures that Elara will want to stick close to him, but apparently his sister is in her element when being cooed at by the Weasleys.

She looks adorable in her party dress and plaited hair. Luna showed Draco how to do it and he’s unreasonably proud of the job he did, even if there are little curls slipping out already. Draco, himself, is wearing a blue buttoned shirt the same shade as Elara’s dress. He also helped Harry and Teddy get ready by picking out their outfits (Weasley jumpers paired with matching tan slacks) and attempting to do their hair. As it turns out, Harry’s unruly hair is not due to a lack of effort; it is truly untamable. Teddy’s isn’t much better but that’s because of the little boy’s appearance changing as his feelings do. Harry assures him that Teddy will learn to control his _metamorphmagus_ skills as he gets older, but Draco still plans on getting as many books on the topic as possible so they will be prepared.

Harry asks about Bill and Molly tells him that he, Fleur, and Victoire are in France with the Delacours. Draco’s stomach sinks when he hears. He loves talking with Fleur. She’s strong, smart, and understands what it’s like to be an outsider in this family. It must show on his face because Molly pats him on the arm and assures him that they’ll be back by New Years- as will Ron and Hermione.

George ruffles both Harry’s and Teddy’s hair but stops short of doing the same to Draco, though he does give him an approving nod. Then he kneels down in front of Elara and pulls something from his pocket. Elara bounces up and down excitedly, quickly taking the proffered item. Draco is about to intervene when Ginny and yet the burliest Weasley he’s ever seen come bounding into the room.

Ginny greets Harry and the children before giving Draco the same sort of nod as George. She sees Draco looking at her brother and says dismissively, “That’s just Charlie.”

“Oi! Is that any way to introduce your favorite brother?”

“Bill’s not here.”

Charlie snatches his wand from his thigh holster and fires off a _stickfast hex_ at Ginny. She doesn’t have a chance to react before her shoes are stuck to the floor.

Ginny grumbles but bends down to unlace her trainers and slip her feet out. Charlie expected that but he doesn’t expect Ginny to pull her wand while she’s down there. Even though she casts wordlessly, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what hex she uses to fight back.

Charlie curses as bats fly from his nose. He ends the hex and vanishes the bats before holding up his hands in surrender. “Truce!”

Ginny pumps both fists in the air, doing a little dance to celebrate. “He likes to pretend that he’s so strong, working with dragons all day,” she tells Draco.

Ah, the dragon Weasley. He’s heard Harry talk about this one. Harry talks about him quite a bit, now that he thinks of it. _“Charlie works at the Dragon Reserve in Romania. Maybe we could take the kids there? You know how much Teddy likes stories about dragons. Charlie brought the dragons for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but he was so mad when he found out how they’d be tricking the dragons to thinking we were stealing their eggs. Do you think he’d show me the Horntail I went up against? He said he was proud of me for not hurting her.”_

“MALFOY!” Ginny is smirking at him when he finally gives her his attention. “Mum said it’s time for gifts.”

Draco finds the present-exchanging process a little overwhelming, but the mental image of his father tearing into wrappings and his mother shouting over a house full of children makes him laugh enough that he starts to relax. He likes Mister and Missus Weasley, even if they are very different from his own parents.

Arthur nearly cries when he opens his season tickets and he pulls Harry into an uncharacteristic hug (usually he sticks to shoulder slaps and handshakes). Draco is equally as excited though he refrains from the hugging.

Luna gives Harry and Draco a houseplant. Harry asks what it is, which causes both Luna and Draco to launch into a longwinded explanation of the medicinal properties of the ficus itself as well as the figs it will produce. Everyone else groans, but Harry is impressed. He never talks to Draco about his job- or anything to do with Potions, really- and he could listen to him all day.

Teddy and Elara open a huge quantity of gifts, but Draco is glad to see that they’re not all toys. There’s a wide selection of books, clothes, and games.

With the kids taken care of, only a few presents remain. Harry opens his annual tin of treacle fudge, Ginny gets a life-size poster of herself in her full Harpies kit from George (who saw it at a shop and couldn’t resist), and Molly has enough drawings from her grandchildren to paper an entire room.

Then Harry moves behind the sofa, coming back holding a lumpy parcel in his hand.

He thrusts it towards Draco and says, “I…wasn’t sure I wanted to give this to you because it’s not that great. I also didn’t want to throw it away. So here it is. Do what you want with it.”

Because _that’s_ not strange. Draco takes the package and unwraps it slowly revealing a grey and brown monstrosity. “What is this?” he asks as he turns it this way and that. “A throw rug?”

“N-no,” Harry stammers. “It…it’s stupid. I’ll take it back.”

Draco clutches whatever it is to his chest. “You will do no such thing. You gave it to me; you can’t simply take it back. Just tell me what it is.”

“The fact that you can’t tell is reason enough to get rid of it.” Harry looks down at his feet and mumbles, “It’s a jumper. Molly taught me how to knit.”

Draco unfolds it and, okay, now that he said that he supposes that part sort of resembles a sleeve- though the other one is significantly shorter. “What did you size the neck hole with?”

“A large melon.”

He tries to be nice- he _really_ does- because it’s obvious that Potter did this for him. He’s learned to knit (although a few more lessons are probably needed) and has tried to show love the same way Molly has for him. But it’s just. So. Bad. He starts laughing hysterically, tears streaming down his cheeks and everything. “Have you ever SEEN a jumper?” Draco wheezes. “Are you not wearing one right now??”

Harry is offended until he’s not. It truly is awful. He can’t help but laugh too.

When they’ve both calmed down, Harry reaches for the terrible garment again but Draco still stops him. “Let me keep it.”

“Why? We both agree it’s rubbish.”

“Because you tried,” Draco says seriously, all signs of laughter gone. “My parents bought me a hundred jumpers but they never tried to make one themselves. No one’s ever made me _anything_ before. So even though it’s-” he holds it up “-a bit wonky, I want to keep it.”

Harry sighs but finally concedes, “If you must!”

They don’t even notice the rest of the room watching them.

* * *

After the sitting room is cleaned up, there’s Quidditch (or, what starts as Quidditch but quickly devolves into a snowball fight) and then dinner. By the time they get home that night, Elara and Teddy are both fast asleep.

Before Draco can make it to his room Harry stops him and asks, “Can you watch the kids in the morning?”

“Where do you have to go? It’s Boxing Day.”

“Look, I just…” Harry rubs his hands down his sleepy face. “I go to Godric’s Hollow every year.”

Ah, yes. Draco should have known. A monument honouring James and Lily Potter was erected in the town square. Surely their graves are there as well. It makes sense that Harry would want to visit that connection to his parents. He agrees to take care of Teddy and Elara, but he’s already formulating a different plan.

The next morning he wakes up early and gets the kids ready. They’re bundled up in their new woolen cloaks- as well as the hat and mitten sets Molly made them- by the time Harry walks downstairs. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“We’re going with you.” It’s not a suggestion. Draco leaves no room for argument (not that Harry has any; he’s glad to not be alone, whether or not he’d admit that out loud).

They spend an hour walking around the village and end at the cemetery. Harry casts the spell Hermione taught him when they stopped here during their winter on the run. Then he bends down to the arrange the flowers. Of course that makes Elara want to add her own flowers, so Harry conjures another arrangement and hands them to her. Elara sets one flower down in front of the gravestone, but then she flits off and sets the remaining flowers on various other graves and monuments.

“F’owers, pease?” Teddy asks as he reaches up his hands.

Harry laughs and conjures yet another bunch of flowers for Teddy, who runs off after Elara. As they watch the kids run around Harry knocks into Draco’s shoulder and says, “Thanks for this.”

Draco just shrugs it off. “I just knew that if it were me, I wouldn’t want to be alone.”

Elara walks back holding onto Teddy’s hand. “Can we go home and make a snowman?”

“S’owman!” Teddy echoes.


	11. Chapter 11

Draco has always liked to sleep in late. Lucius never approved, but when he was away on business Draco and Narcissa would indulge with a lie in. Even once they were up they would stay in their dressing gowns and spend a lazy day together. Harry is- unfortunately for Draco- a morning person.

It’s brought to light one morning as Draco drags his sorry self down the stairs and barks, “Have you any idea the time?”

Harry can only laugh at the sleep-rumpled, soft-looking man who stands in front of him. He looks at his dented watch and replies, “It’s ten o’clock. Elara and Teddy have been up for hours. And aren’t you meant to be back to work today?”

He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘know-it-all-twat’ and Harry has to bite back another laugh. “As a matter of fact,” Draco tells him with no small amount of snark, “Luna is taking a rare day off to go surprise Ginerva at her match. I am, however, going to pop over to the workshop and check on the progress of things.”

Harry nods as he sets a plate of toast and eggs down at the table for Draco. “What are you working on?”

He downs his tea greedily before answering, “A lot of things.”

“Please tell me?” Harry’s bottom lip is pooched out and he bats his eyelashes, something that Draco doesn’t fall for when it’s coming from a child yet he finds it harder to resist coming from Potter.

“Do you really want to know?” he says with a sigh. Harry’s hair flops about as his head shakes vigorously up and down. “Fine. We have contracts with a few apothecaries to produce the basics like Pepper Up and Fever Reducer, so there’s always cauldrons of those brewing, and Luna’s big project is a potion to reverse macular degeneration.”

“Uhh…”

“It’s the leading cause of blindness in the elderly.”

“Wow,” Harry says in awe.

Draco hums in agreement. It _is_ quite impressive what Luna has managed to do so far. “She’s been working with an ocular healer from St. Mungo’s in the research and development. There’s a long way to go but the early tests are showing great promise. And in the meantime, she’s formulated a potion to give someone temporary 20/20 eyesight. It only lasts about five minutes or so, but it’s a huge breakthrough.”

“And what are you working on, Draco?”

“A modification of Wolfsbane that can be taken daily. While lycanthropy can never be cured, my hope is to make the effects of it as nonexistent as possible. Werewolves deserve the chance to live in society just as much as witches and wizards.”

Harry’s eyes glitter with pride. “Remus…” he trails off with a heavy sniff.

Draco coughs and tugs at the collar of the pyjama shirt he realizes he’s still wearing. “Yes, I did consider him. You told me how hard it was for him to simply live his life and that’s just not fair.” Harry’s still looking weepy, and that makes Draco glad for the joyous scream from the other side of the ground floor gives him the perfect excuse to change subject. Teddy is chasing Elara around with his dragons. “Elara’s birthday is coming up,” he tells Harry.

“I didn’t know that! When?”

“The tenth.”

“Does she want a party?”

“I was thinking the four of us should go somewhere- preferably somewhere warm- though I hadn’t thought of a destination yet.”

Harry slaps his hands down on the table. “Leave that to me.” Then he ushers Draco out of the kitchen so he can get changed and go to work.

* * *

Draco is interrupted in his work after only an hour. He’s ready to snap at whomever opens the door to the shed but he can hear Elara’s cries before he can even see her. Harry sets her down and she runs over to Draco, who immediately picks her up and tries to sooth her. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

She snuffles and hiccoughs, clutching to Draco’s shirt like a lifeline. “Y-you were g-gone!”

“It’s alright, Elara. I was just over here at Luna’s. This is where I work.”

“B-but why can’t you s-stay with me?”

He smooths her hair back from her face. “Honey, this is what grown-ups do during the day.”

“Not H-Harry!”

“Yes, well, we can’t all be _The Boy Who Lived_ , now can we?”

“Draco!” Harry hisses from his place by the doors.

He rolls his eyes at him but then gets serious before he talks to Elara again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was leaving, but I really like making potions and working here with Luna.”  
“Will you be gone aaaaall day?” She’s stopped crying but now she’s whining and quite frankly Draco isn’t sure which one is worse.

“From breakfast to dinner usually.”

“Noooooo! I’ll miss you too much!”

He refuses to be like his father and put work (among other things) in front of his family. He can do this. He can have balance in his life. “I’ll come home for lunch every day. And Harry can come get me if I forget.” He glances over her shoulder to make sure Potter is okay with that. His smile is answer enough. “Does that sound like a plan?”

Elara thinks it over a minute before nodding. “It’s a plan.”

Draco snuggles her into a warm hug, nuzzling his nose into her hair. Then he plants a kiss on her forehead before placing her back on the ground. “Now go on with Harry and I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

She runs over and takes Harry’s proffered hand. All signs of the earlier tears are gone in favor of the promise of getting to join Teddy in listening to one of Xenophilius’ stories.

* * *

“Perth,” Harry says a few days later when Draco gets home for dinner.

“What’s that?”  
“For Elara’s birthday. You wanted someplace warm and Australia is in the middle of their summer right now.”

“Let me guess: Granger and the Weasel are going to make an appearance.”

“ _Hermione_ and _Ron_ said they’d like to meet Elara.”

Draco snorts with derision. There’s no way the Weasel really wants to meet her. He just wants to show up and make their lives miserable. But he refuses to be responsible for keeping Harry from his friends. “Fine,” he says through gritted teeth.

* * *

Harry takes care of everything as Draco puts in extra hours to make up for the time they’ll be gone (Luna says he doesn’t have to but Draco has always had a strong work ethic). He makes their hotel reservation, purchases tickets for the various attractions he thinks the kids will enjoy, and secures an international portkey from the Ministry.

Perth is seven hours ahead of Ottery St. Catchpole, so they leave early on the morning of Elara’s birthday to arrive at their destination in the middle of the afternoon local time. The resort that Harry booked for them is stunning. There’s the main hotel that has a large outdoor pool, and then a series of bungalows that open onto a semi-private beach.

Draco takes the Teddy and Elara to a shop to buy swimsuits. They were going to do that at home but he didn’t want a repeat of his pre-Christmas shopping disaster. At least here, no one knows who he is. Elara picks out a neon purple suit with yellow ruffles around the waist like a tutu. It’s so garish, but it is her birthday so Draco lets her get it. Teddy doesn’t seem to have an opinion so Draco gets him a pair of swim shorts with a geometric pattern all in blues. For himself, Draco picks out trunks in what he thinks is a very dignified solid grey. He pays for everything and then takes them back to the hotel lobby to meet up with Harry, who is already waiting. He holds Teddy by the hand and leads everyone out to the bungalow they’ll be staying in.

Draco whistles as he turns slowly and takes in their accommodations. “I must say, Potter, this is nice.”

Harry snorts and says, “You could have had a little faith in me. When I go on holiday, I do it right.”

“Well, consider that lesson learned.”

It really is beautiful, all light and airy and whole walls of sliding glass doors that open out onto a patio and their section of private beach. There’s only one bedroom but it has a pair of enormous beds that could easily sleep more than the two adults and two children in their party. Draco wishes he could live here.

“Wanna s’im!” Teddy declares, so they go off to get changed.

After making sure the kids are in their suits and slathered in sunblock, Harry goes into the toilet to change. He emerges wearing swim shorts that are a solid red, trimmed with gold (classic Gryffindor). Draco notices the way they hang off of his slim hips in the same enticing way that his pyjama bottoms do. He shakes his head and forces himself to look away. And when Harry offers to take the kids down to the beach and leave him to change, Draco lets him and is glad for the moment alone.

He looks at his reflection in the mirror as he drags a hand down his face. What is happening to him? He promised himself- and Pansy and Blaise- back in their sixth year that he’d never pine after Potter again. But there’s only so many times he can tell himself it’s not a real marriage between them. They wake up together, cook together (okay, so Potter does most of the cooking), take care of the Elara and Teddy together, and now they’re vacationing together. It’s hard to separate fact from farce when they look the same. Draco has opened his heart to not only Harry but to his Weasleys as well. So apparently everything he once knew is now changed.

It’s been long enough so Draco quickly dons his swimwear and jogs out to the beach. He catches Harry staring as he walks up to him and preens at the attention. At least he’s not the only one struggling to keep his feelings in check. With no small amount of cheek he says, “Shut your mouth, Potter, or something is liable to fly in.” Then he turns away and says to the kids (perhaps a bit too loudly), “Let’s get in the water!”

By unspoken agreement, Draco watches after Elara and Harry watches after Teddy as they walk into the ocean. Teddy likes splashing through the shallows, chasing after little fish and wayward pieces of sea plants. Elara on the other hand wants Draco to hold her so they can go out deeper. He tosses her in the air and catches her so she grazes the water with a small splash. She laughs every time and begs him to do it again.

After a while they see surfers further out and decide to watch them. “I bet I could do that,” Harry says confidently.

Draco looks over his surprisingly muscled body and happens to agree, he’s just not about to say it out loud.

When the surfers no longer hold Teddy’s interest, Harry sets up some boundary spells and gives him and Elara a set of small buckets and shovels. He shows them how to make a sandcastle, and then lays a towel out to sit on. Draco drops down next to him on his own towel and stretches out to bask in the sun. They’re quiet, listening to the children laugh and build their castle, and then Harry sighs and finally his body relaxes.

“I needed this,” he says softly.

“Why? Because you work so hard all day?” Draco can feel Harry go stiff beside him and he regrets it the moment the words are out of his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You are busy taking care of Teddy and Elara. But what is it that you do all day?”

Harry has no hesitation when he answers, “I help people.”

“That does seem to be your kink.”

He slaps Draco on the shoulder but he’s laughing at the same time. “I know, I know. It’s just…it’s something I’m good at.”

“So what exactly do you do? Who are you helping in your quest to uphold the _Savior_ name?”

Harry leans back on his elbows and relaxes again. “I help at Hogwarts a lot. Hagrid asks for me- you had him for Care of Magical Creatures, so you know how he can get when he’s excited. A couple of extra hands are always a good idea with him. The new DADA professor has me guest lecture every so often. Sometimes first years who don’t get the hang of broom flying spend a few afternoons with me. I’ve even swept floors for Filch on occasion.”

None of this shocks Draco. Though he does have to wonder, “Where have you been leaving the children when you traipse off to the castle?”

“I used to take Teddy with me, but I haven’t gone since Elara came to live with us.”

“Oh. Do you want to? I hate to hold you back from your do-good-er lifestyle.”

Harry just waves him off with a flap of his hand. “We can talk about it when we get back. There will always be something for me to do.”

They spend all afternoon on the beach- with Harry running off to fetch them some dinner- and only head back to their bungalow when Teddy and Elara start yawning. The excitement of the day truly has caught up with them and they’re asleep after a quick bath.

* * *

Hermione and Ron join them the next day. She suggests going to the small farm that Harry pre-purchased entry to. Elara and Teddy enjoy the animals so after a quick stop for snack their next stop is a wildlife park. Draco wishes they had brought a camera because the little ones are not the only ones having fun feeding the kangaroos. Harry’s is grinning from ear to ear. Even Ron loosens up.

The last stop in the early evening is at an indoor fun park where Harry manages to talk Draco into racing him up a rock-climbing wall. Harry’s upper body strength is more evident but he is quite a bit shorter, so Draco beats him to the top. Ron takes Elara through the putt-putt golfing that’s lit up so only their equipment and the greens are glowing. Draco is hesitant to leave her with the Weasel, so he convinces Hermione to stay with Harry while he tags along. But there’s nothing to be worried about because Ron is a natural with Elara and he wishes her no ill will. He and Draco even share a short conversation before their round of golf is up.

When they’re done, Teddy runs up and reaches his arms out to Draco. As soon as he’s settled on Draco’s hip the boy curls up and falls asleep. He rocks him slightly side to side and says, “We should probably go, but this was very enjoyable.”

“We had fun, as well,” Hermione says. She gives first Elara and then Harry a big hug. “Don’t be strangers. And you can always write.”

Ron gives Harry a hug of his own, and then he and Hermione take their leave. Draco puts Teddy to bed as soon as they get back. He looks for Elara to start getting her ready but finds her with Harry. The pair are sitting on the patio, watching the sun set over the beach. Draco joins them and thinks that it can’t get much better than this.

* * *

Draco jerks awake in the middle of the nigh with a gasp.

“Wha’s’it?” Harry slurs from the next bed over.

“Go back to sleep, Potter,” he scolds quietly as he flips the blankets back and strides across the room to the table where he saw a pen and notepad earlier.

Harry mumbles a bit more to himself but then he rolls over and falls back asleep almost instantly. Draco casts the weakest _lumos_ possible as to not wake anyone else, and then writes down as much of his idea as he can remember. He knows there’s a good possibility that the potion he dreamt up is complete nonsense, but he can’t just let it go. In his dream, he was able to reverse memory loss. He closes his eyes and tries to picture the ingredients and how they were combined. Draco sees himself chopping and squishing but then the image starts to drift away. He jots down the last few details and sighs as his mind fogs over and the remnants of the dream slip away.

He leans back on the sofa and he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows he has two little children giggling over him. Draco flips his eyes open and Elara jumps back in shock. He reaches out and grabs her, tickling until she shrieks with laughter. Of course he has to do the same for Teddy next.

“Are you headed to the market?” Harry interrupts their playing.

Draco sits up, the kids still hanging off of him. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Then what’s this? It looks like a shopping list.”

That’s when he sees what Harry is holing in his hands. He scrabbles for the notepad and shouts, “Give that back!” They’re tugging back and forth on the paper and then it rips. “NO!” Draco snatches the scraps from Harry’s hand and tries to flatten them out on the table. “You complete and utter wanker! That was important!”

“Draco…” he looks nervously at Elara and Teddy, who are staring at them with wide eyes. “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Harry just barely resists the temptation to mock him. He picks up the phone and orders breakfast for everyone, then he gets out a stack of coloring books and crayons to distract Teddy and Elara. Draco is still frowning over his mystery list when he rejoins him back on the sofa. “You ready to tell me what that is, now?”

Draco throws the paper at him and leans back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s nothing, apparently. I had a dream about a potion but I must have been mostly asleep still when I wrote that.” He rolls his head towards Harry and admits, “I see why you thought it was a shopping list.”

Harry starts laughing and that gets Draco laughing as well. Elara looks up from her coloring and says, “Good. You’re done fighting. Fighting is not nice.”

Draco twists around to face her and says, “You’re right, but we weren’t fighting.”

“Yes you were.”

“ _Don’t argue with her_ ,” Harry hisses.

“ _You take the fun out of everything, Potter_.” Then, to Elara, “You’re right, sweetheart. We won’t fight anymore.”

Harry huffs. Even Elara looks like she doesn’t believe him, though she does turn back to the picture she’s drawing.

Draco goes to crumple his list when Harry clasps his hand around his wrist to stop him. “Just keep it. You never know; it might make more sense later.”

“It’s nothing but rubbish!”

“You never know,” he says again.

Draco gets up to throw it away, but at the last minute he stops. He smooths the paper out and slips it into his trouser pocket. Damn, Potter.

* * *

Their final day in Perth is spent doing a little shopping and more sunbathing out on the beach. Draco wishes he could freeze time right in this moment.

But all things good cannot last. They pack up the bungalow and Harry checks them out. Just as they’re waiting on their return portkey to activate, a silvery horse patronus gallops up to Draco and begins to speak:

> “I would have sent this sooner but Luna insisted you enjoy your holiday. There was an incident. She and X are fine but come as soon as you get back. Send Harry to Nev and the kids to Molly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had magic and unlimited funds like Harry and Draco, you can bet I'd be traveling all over the world pretty much non-stop.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This picks up where last chapter left off, with the patronus from Ginny.

Harry promises to take care of everything else, so Draco apparates the moment his feet hit the ground outside of their wards. The last thing he expects to see upon his arrival at the Lovegoods’ is a large pile of ashes and debris where their shed used to stand. He’s never run so fast as he tears across the garden and into their home. “LUNA!” he bellows, voice full of worry.

Luna walks calmly down the spiral staircase. “It’s alright, Draco. Everyone is fine.”

Ginny’s message said the same thing, but he’s just so relieved. He pulls Luna in for a hug, tucking her in under his chin.

She chuckles and pats him on the back. “I have to say, I like this side of you.”

“That’s enough of that, then.” When did he become such a hugger? Draco pushes her back and holds her at arm’s length. Then he looks her in the eyes and asks, “What happened?”

Luna’s face falls. She looks tired and sad. Regret also sneaks into her expression when she says, “They burned down our workshop.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“I don’t know their names, but the aurors already took them away. Dad had the foresight to fire call the Ministry as soon as he felt them arrive on the property.”

“That’s why Ginerva told me to send Harry to Longbottom,” he says in understanding.

“Exactly. And speaking of Ginny…she thinks she recognized one of them from your encounter in Diagon.”

Brilliant. He was naïve to think that was an isolated incident. And now he’s brought violence and drama down on the people he cares about. He swipes at the angry tears threatening to fall. “This is all my fault,” he bites out bitterly. Luna starts to interrupt him, but he doesn’t give her the chance. “I’m sorry, but no one else is going to get hurt because of me. Never again.”

Draco pushes past Luna, who is still trying to stop him, and goes straight to their floo. He knows where she keeps the powder and wastes no time throwing a handful down and calling out, “Ministry of Magic.”

He channels all of what he likes to call his ‘inner-Lucius’ and strides through the corridors of the Ministry like he owns the place. He briefly considers going to the DMLE, but decides that he should go higher up for something this severe. He walks to the Atrium and boards the first lift possible. A few people turn to look at him but no one says anything.

By the time the voice chimes, “Level 1: Minister and Support Staff,” Draco is alone in the lift. The lift slides open and he steps out, already aiming for the Minister’s office. He raises his fist to the door but it swings open before he even has the chance to knock.

“Sir,” Draco starts but he’s shushed by the man inside.

Kingsley is sitting calmly behind his desk as he states, “I’ve been expecting you, Mister Malfoy.”

“Where is he?”

“Harry is already with the aurors.”

“Not Harry,” Draco grinds out. “Where is the man who destroyed my work and put my friends in harm’s way?”

“The aurors are taking care of him.”

“And where were the aurors when a mob tried to attack me in Diagon Alley?”

Kingsley sits up a little straighter and gives Draco a concerned look. “When did this happen?”

“Before Christmas.”

“I assure you that had I known, something would have been done.” He pushes himself to standing and agrees to take Draco down to the interrogation rooms.

The sound of yelling grows louder as they approach. Draco looks through the one-way glass just in time to see Harry punch someone in the face. Neville and another auror drag him out of the interrogation room, but he’s still swinging and cursing. The other auror shuts the door behind them.

“You can’t do that, Harry!” Neville shouts as he shoves him against a wall.

Harry jerks his arm out of Neville’s grip and shouts back just as fiercely, “I couldn’t just stand there and let him say that!”

“You’re not an auror!”

“I could have been!”

“But you’re _not_ and even if you were you’d still get your arse handed to you for roughing up a suspect!” The fight drains out of Harry as he slides down the wall. Neville crouches down next to him. “Look, I get it. I heard what he said. But now we might have to let him go because you couldn’t walk away when he insulted your boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Harry grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, you went and got yourself secretly married. Didn’t even tell your friends.”

It’s obvious that he’s just teasing and Harry’s face cracks into what could almost be called a smirk. Then he groans and clunks his head back against the wall. “Did I just ruin everything?”

Kingsley steps forward then and clears his throat. “I think, given the circumstances, certain events can be…overlooked. Now, Draco, can you identify the man in that room?”

Draco looks in and nods. “There were many people in the crowd, but he was definitely one of them.”

“We’ll take it from here, then.” He claps Draco on the shoulder and takes the aurors with him as he goes.

Harry is still on the floor looking sorry for himself, so Draco reaches a hand down to help him up. “Come on, Potter. Let’s go home.”

* * *

When they go to pick up the kids, Molly tells them to stay for dinner and there is no argument from either Draco or Harry. Arthur keeps them thinking positively by asking about their trip to Australia. Elara tells him about the glow-in-the-dark putt-putt golfing and his eyes are the size of saucers. Harry and Draco share a look; they both know exactly what they can do for Arthur for his birthday.

Molly is listening intently to Teddy talk about their time spent on the beach. When he’s done, she taps Draco’s hand and there’s pride in her voice when she says, “His speech is getting much better.”

“I’ve noticed that too,” Harry chimes in. “I think it’s all the reading Draco does with him. I mean, I tell him stories but Draco reads actual books and he does this thing where he moves his finger along with the words so Teddy can see them as he says them. I think it’s helping him form his consonants better.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Molly coos. “Are you planning on sending Elara to primary school in the fall, or will you be teaching her yourself?”

Everyone looks at Draco and he very unintelligently says, “Uhhhh….”

Molly just pats his hand again and assures him he has time to decide.

That evening, once everything has been unpacked and Teddy and Elara are both sound asleep in their beds, Draco grabs the bottle of firewhiskey that looks the fullest and takes it back to his bedroom with him. He rubs some of his fancy eucalyptus cold crème on his face and leans back, taking a drag from the liquor bottle. He savours the burn. He takes another swig just as a knock sounds at the door. Elara would use the door that connects their bedrooms, and Teddy would never knock, so he knows it’s Harry.

“What do you want, Potter?” The door creaks open and Draco lifts an eyebrow in amusement. “I’m sorry, did that sound like an invitation?”

Harry rubs at the back of his neck nervously. “I just…can we talk?”

Draco sloshes the contents of the bottle back and forth. “Make it quick, or I may not have the mental capacity to carry on a conversation.”

He’s across the room in a second. “Do you mind sharing?”

Draco pats the bed and Harry climbs on. He takes the firewhiskey and drinks down more than is recommended. “Slow down, Potter. I don’t want to be responsible for your death.”

His mouth comes off the bottle with a pop. “It’ll take more than alcohol to keep me down.”

They sit in silence for a bit, just passing the bottle back and forth, though Draco is glad to see that Harry takes it a little easier with his intake.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.”

Harry growls and punches his fists down onto the covers. “Stop apologizing for things you can’t control! You act like all the bad in the world is your fault and it scares me! I keep waiting for the day I come home and you’re gone.”

Draco wants to deny it, but he’s been tempted. One time he even packed his luggage, but he stopped when he went into Elara’s room to pack her things. He saw the drawings and toys and gifts she’s received and realized he could never take her away from this- the chance to have a real childhood with a family who loves her.

“I…I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.”

Harry stays the night, and for once he sleeps in late the next day. The kids are already downstairs playing and there’s a single portion of breakfast under stasis on the table, but Draco is nowhere in sight. While shoveling food into his mouth he asks Elara where her brother went. She thinks he said something about the toilet, and that’s exactly where Harry finds him.

The door is open so Harry walks right in. “You doing alright? Is this because of last night?”

“I’m not hungover.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just don’t like the person I see in the mirror,” Draco confesses.

“You don’t have to look that way,” Harry says as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. He waits for Draco to meet his eyes in the mirror and then he asks, “Do you trust me?”

Draco lifts an eyebrow and Harry smirks back at him. He takes him by the hand and pulls him to the kitchen door with the single direction of, “Wait.” Then he bundles up Teddy and Elara and tells them they’re going to visit a friend. The four walk outside and Harry tells everyone to hold on tight.

They land in front of a shop and at Harry’s behest, Draco opens the door. It’s a hairdressing salon. A tall, dark man turns around and smiles at the group. “It’s about time you got that mane cut, Harry,” he teases.

“Thomas?” Draco blurts.

“Hullo, Malfoy.” His voice is even and flat, though without malice.

Harry steps forward and gives Dean one of his slappy back-hugs. “Draco wants a fresh start, and I couldn’t think of a better person to help him out. And- as you so graciously pointed out- I could also use a trim.”

Elara slips her little hand into his and asks, “Can I get my hair cut too, Harry?”

“Hair too?” Of course, Teddy emphasizes his own question by turning his hair pink and wavy and so long that it grazes his shoulders.

Dean laughs and flips the sign on his door to ‘Closed’. “Haircuts all around, then!” He sets everyone up in empty salon chairs.

“Can you, umm…” Draco coughs and looks down at his feet. “Can you do mine last? I’m not sure exactly what I want.”

“Of course,” Dean agrees. “I’ll start with the little ones, do Harry, and then come to you.”

Draco can only nod his head. As he sits in his own chair he tries to block out everything else around him. He can still hear talking, but it’s nothing compared to the chatter inside his own mind. He thinks Potter was right to bring him here. He’s lived his whole life trying to uphold the image of the perfect Malfoy. But Malfoys aren’t perfect; he, least of all. So what can he do to break away from his past?

A barber’s cape whips around and him and Dean is looking his reflection in the eye. “All set?”

Draco blurts the first thing that comes to his mind, “Blue.”

Dean laughs. “I can work with blue. What about a cut? Something edgy or still classic?”

He looks over at Harry and admires his new cut. It’s tapered on the sides and longer on top, so it still curls in his signature messy look. Draco isn’t sure what he wants but he likes the way everyone else’s hair turned out. And besides, what does he have to lose? “Your choice.”

Dean cracks his knuckles and says, “I wish all my clients were as easygoing.” He moves about getting clean combs and scissors from various drawers. He sets out an electric clippers and different sized clips. Then there’s bowls, brushes, and bottles that he tells Draco are for the dye. “Do you want it to be a surprise? I can charm the mirror to only be viewed by me.”

Draco should be anxious but he really is excited to turn over a new leaf. “Why not,” he decides with a smile.

Harry takes the kids- who look adorable with their new cuts- to find an ice cream shop so that they don’t get too antsy, and Dean gets started.

They don’t talk much, outside of quick questions and answers about his hair. Draco feels lighter with every clack of the scissors and whir of the clippers. It’s refreshing. While he’s waiting for the dye to set, he looks over at Dean cleaning up his work station and feels compelled to say something. “I’m sorry,” he says abruptly.

Dean looks understandably confused. “Regretting the color already?”

“No, I have confidence it’ll come out to my liking. I’m apologizing for when you were imprisoned in my family home.”

Dean freezes for a moment before regaining his composure. “I try not to think about it.”

“I understand. Additional apologies for bringing it up.”

“Look, Malfoy,” Dean sighs and rounds to face him, leaning back against his work bench. “I was there long enough to know you didn’t have a choice. I heard what he said. I heard what he did. I was on the run to protect my family, so I can’t imagine I’d do anything different if I was in your position.”

“WHY IS EVERYONE SO UNDERSTANDING?!” Draco smacks his hands down the arms of the salon chair.

“Do you…want me to be mad?”

“It would make more sense!”

Dean shrugs. “Life’s too short to stay mad. I’ve got my business and Seamus- not to mention my sisters are safe and sound- so I really can’t complain.”

Draco nods but otherwise doesn’t say anything else. When time is up, Dean rinses the dye from his hair touches up a few spots with his scissors. Then he brushes off Draco’s neck and takes off the barber’s cape. “Ready to see?” he asks, and when Draco nods again he takes the charm off of the mirror.

Draco looks at his reflection in complete awe. His hair is parted on one side and, though the sides are not as short as Potter’s, it is still longer on the top. And the color. He was right to trust Dean with the color. It’s an icy blue that’s striking against his fair skin and eyes. It’s so different and so perfect, he hardly wants to touch it lest it get ruined.

The kids bang back through the shop door and Teddy runs up to him shouting, “Day’do b’ue!”

Draco laughs and pulls him up onto his lap. He’s glad that Teddy stopped calling him ‘Malfoy’ once Harry stopped. “Do you like it?” he asks.

Teddy sticks out his tongue in concentration and attempts to mimic Draco’s new hairstyle. It turns out a little bluer and a whole lot floppier, but it makes everyone laugh regardless. Then he’s concentrating again and they watch in amazement as his skin darkens to a close match to Dean’s.  
“I Dee!” he cheers triumphantly.

“He’s getting quite good at doing that on purpose now,” Dean remarks.

Harry ruffles Teddy’s hair and says, “He is almost three, so he’s right on track.”

They thank Dean again for his help- with Draco insisting on overpaying for closing his shop down for an entire morning- and then they’re heading back home.

Harry sits on the floor playing dragons with Teddy, so Draco sets Elara up with an oversized pencil and lined paper to practice writing her letters. Then he slips out to the toilet to admire his new hair some more. He’s so absorbed in his reflection that he doesn’t hear Harry come in.

“It really does suit you, you know.”

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

Harry steps in close and says, “On anyone else, sure. But on you it works.”

Draco tips his chin down and tilts his head to catch the light. “Pansy always said I had magnificent cheekbones.”

“Whatever that means.”

“You are such a plebeian, Potter.”

“Do you, erm, well, do you ever miss her?”

“Miss whom?”

“Pansy. Or, any of your friends, really. I know you and Zabini were close. Same with Goyle.”

Of course Draco misses his friends, but he doesn’t even know where they are. He hasn’t heard from any of them since he was released from prison- not even in gossip from the Weasleys or Luna. “Yes,” he says simply.

“Oh.” Draco isn’t sure what answer Harry expected, but he certainly doesn’t expect what he says next. “Invite them over, then. Whenever you want. This is your home and you should be happy in it.”

It’s a simple thing to say, and rather unnecessary. Draco knows it’s his home- he doesn’t need reminding. But then why hasn’t he written to his friends?

“Oh, and Draco?”

“Hmm?”

“I have to use the loo, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Draco rolls his eyes as he leaves the room. Leave it to Harry to ruin a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I was an artist so I could draw Draco's new look! Alas, I can only do stick figures.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Others mentioned in this chapter in passing. They are one-offs and no details are given. Sorry if that's not your thing.

Luna floos over in the afternoon to tell Draco that she’s accepted an offer to brew potions exclusively for a large independent healing practice.

It’s not exactly what Draco had in mind but he’s willing to make the change if it means he can continue partnering with Luna. “I can make that work. When do we start?”

He knows his mistake as soon as he sees her face fall. “Draco…I’m sorry…”

“The offer was just for you,” he says in understanding. “Of course no one would want to hire on a Death Eater.”

“Draco Malfoy, you listen to me!” It’s not often Luna raises her voice in anything other than excitement, so when she does everyone knows she means business. “That man got lucky. My relationship with Ginny is common knowledge so when he couldn’t find you, he found me. And Nev already talked Dad into adding wards to the property so he won’t have to worry about any more uninvited guests showing up.”

“But it still happened.”

Draco is eternally grateful that Xenophilius ran the story himself in the Quibbler. He can only imagine if the Prophet had found out first. They would have probably made Draco out to be the villain again just like they did before Christmas. However, all the good press in the world can not make Draco feel any better. And now Luna is leaving him.

“I’m not abandoning you," she says as though reading his mind, "and I think this could be good for you.”

He draws his brow down in frustration. “How do you figure that?”

“You’re good, Draco, arguably better than me. All of our contracted work will be yours now, and I think you should use this opportunity to study for your own mastership in potioneering. Horace would be willing to take you on.”

Draco hardly thinks that last part is true but it would be nice to become a Potions Master in his own right. Not that he deserves it. “I don’t have a workshop anymore,” he argues.

“Talk to Harry. He built mine.”

Is there anything that man is not good at? It’s unreasonably unfair that Potter is so bloody talented at everything he tries to do. But all that aside, Draco knows he can’t hold Luna back from this opportunity. She still has the freedom to make a great future for herself even if he doesn’t.

* * *

It’s over breakfast a few mornings later that Draco works up the courage to talk to Harry. He pushes his cold cereal around his bowl and asks, “Did you, um, really build the shed in the Lovegoods’ garden?”

“Yef,” Harry answers with a mouth full of eggs. “Cha’e hepped.”

Draco's spoon clangs down into his bowl as he complains, “For Salazar’s sake, Potter, swallow your food before speaking!”

Elara and Teddy giggle as Harry quickly downs what’s in his mouth and gives a big, cheeky grin. “I _said_ : yes, and Charlie helped.”

“Charlie. As in-” Draco pushes up his shoulders and holds his arms wide as he moves about in a poor imitation of the dragon handler.

Another round of giggles from the children and Harry. “The very same.”

“I thought he was off in Romania.” Not that Draco’s jealous because he’s certainly not jealous of the way Harry talks about Charlie.

“After the w-” the word ‘war’ dies in his mouth. “After everything was over, Charlie stayed to be with his family for a while. He’s never been one to sit still for long so he started going with me when I was helping people. We rebuilt Hogwarts. Then we made that shed for Luna. Then we did…other things.”

The implication is not lost on Draco. He looks down at his plate, face hot. He’s no prude but he doesn’t enjoy envisioning Potter getting shagged by a Weasley. In fact, the thought makes him physically ill. He subconsciously twists the ring on his left hand as he tries not to picture it.

“Look, Draco,” Harry says just above a whisper, as to not be overheard by little ears. “It was just something to get our minds off what was going on; stress relief, really. And it all became counterproductive when Ron caught us.”

His head snaps up, eyes wide and mouth slowly gaping with amusement. “No!”

Harry nods. “Oh, yes. As awful as you’re imagining, multiply it by a hundred. It was mortifying. Easily top five most embarrassing moments.”

“There’s something _more_ embarrassing than your best mate walking in on you and his brother? Oh, do tell.”

“You were around for most of them, unfortunately. There was the time I broke my arm during a Quidditch match and Lockhart vanished my bones. Then there was the time when I had to dance in front of everyone at the Yule Ball. That was also the year of the ‘Potter Stinks’ badges, so thanks for that.”

“Alright, alright!” Draco’s cheeks are flushed again. “We get it, your life is tragically humiliating. Now can you or can you not build me a shed?”

“I can, but why don’t you just use the cellar?”

“We have a cellar?!”

Elara hears him since he raised his voice, so she answers, “It’s down the secret stairs in the cupboard.”

“Secret stairs?!” Draco yelps, feeling completely out of the loop. “Are there any other surprises I should be aware of?”

“Su’pise!”

There’s a bang and then confetti rains down on the room. Teddy claps, uncaring of the pieces that fall into everyone’s breakfast.

Harry startles and asks, “Did he just…?”

“I think he did,” Draco answers him. “Has he shown any signs of magic before?”

“Not besides his usual physical morphing.”

“This calls for a celebration!” He leans over and whispers something to Harry, who’s eyes light up before he takes off to the floo with a promise to be back soon. Draco vanishes the confetti and sends their dirty dishes into the sink. Then he asks the children, “How about we play outside in the garden until Harry returns?”

Elara is out of her seat and to the door in the blink of an eye, with Teddy scrambling after her. They run straight to the bin that’s overflowing with outdoor toys. When Draco first moved in with Harry and Teddy, he was surprised to find that most of the toys were not only muggle but also very similar to the toys he played with growing up. Sure, the flying discs don’t transform into birds when you throw them and the jump ropes don’t rotate on their own, but the basic designs are the same.

All three of them are kicking a football around when Harry comes jogging out of the house carrying several brooms. He has his trusty Firebolt, the Twigger 99 Draco ordered from Quality Quidditch Supplies a few weeks ago, and two training brooms (one slightly smaller than the other). They were planning on gifting them at Teddy’s birthday party but neither could really wait to spoil the kids.

“What would you lot say to an afternoon of flying?”

Elara emits a high-pitched squeal as she and Teddy race towards Harry in excitement. Draco picks up the forgotten ball and drops it into the toy bin, then he starts casting cushioning charms all across the garden. Training brooms are enchanted to hover only a few feet off of the ground but he’s not taking any chances.

He joins them just as Elara swings a leg up and over her broom. She lowers herself, slowly putting her weight onto the broom and Harry steadies her with a calm hand. Once fully seated, she gives him a nervous look and asks, “Can you hold onto me the entire time? I don’t want to fall.”

Harry looks into those big, silver eyes and positively melts. They’ve only known each other for a little while but he adores her just as much as he does Teddy. And the fact that she trusts him this much is heartwarming. “I promise to not let go until you tell me to.”

“Fwy bwoom, pease!” Teddy says as he tugs on the leg of Draco’s trousers.

He laughs at Teddy’s ability to be both polite and impatient at the same time. He picks the boy up and sets him on his broom. Teddy’s still too little to fly independently, so Draco holds him firmly and just sort of walks him and broom around in a circle. But Teddy doesn’t mind. He claps and cheers and looks as though he’s on top of the world.

They take a break and watch Elara’s progress. She’s able to sit on the broom and hover all on her own. She leans forward but it’s too much and the broom lurches forward. She screams, but Harry is there to bring her to a careful stop. Harry summons his own broom and demonstrates how to make very small movements to move the broom.

Teddy points and says, “Biiiiiiig bwoom.”

“Would you like to fly a big broom?” Draco offers.

“PEASE!”

Draco picks up Teddy and carries him over to where the Twigger 99 is leaning against the side of the house. He mounts the broom and sets Teddy down in front of him. Then he uses liberal sticking charms to keep him in place because Teddy does an awful lot of squirming when he’s excited and this is no training broom. “Ready, Teddy?”

“Weady, Day’do.”

Draco keeps an arm wrapped firmly around him, despite the charms he used, and the other is gripped onto the broom handle as he leans forward. He likes his new broom and is glad Harry talked him into ordering it. Teddy whoops and cheers as they zip across the garden. Draco takes it easy on the speed but he can imagine that to an almost-three-year-old it must feel like they’re going faster than the wind. He doesn’t want to impede upon Elara’s lesson but he can’t help nicking Potter’s side with his tail twigs as he passes.

“You’re lucky Teddy’s on that broom with you!” Harry shouts, but it’s nearly drowned out by the Draco’s laughter. Harry would be cross if he weren’t so glad to hear that sound.

Both children take a nap that afternoon (for which Harry and Draco are eternally grateful, as any parent or pseudo-parent could attest to), which leaves ample time to explore the cellar. Harry shows him the broom cupboard that does, indeed, lead to a narrow staircase that spirals underground.

“Did you really not know this was here?” Harry asks in disbelief.

Draco can only shrug. “The cupboard is so narrow I just never figured to open it.” He wanders around the cellar, touching the walls and looking at ceiling beams. It appears to be structurally sound but he’ll feel better once they construct extra warding. Perhaps he should look through his books on ancient runes for added protection.

“What’s that?” Harry asks, breaking his thought process.

In the back corner is a stack of wooden crates. Draco walks forward and uses his wand to pry the nails loose on one of them. The contents are gut-wrenching. He doesn’t even have to move the top items to know there’s more black and yellow Hufflepuff paraphernalia underneath. Harry lets out a squeak and looks as though he’s about to get sick, so Draco claps the lid back on the crate and seals it shut with a quick sticking charm, but there’s a faraway look in Harry’s eyes that makes him nervous.

“Oi, Potter.” He snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Look at me.” Harry blinks and a single tear runs down his cheek. “Potter!”

He opens his mouth as though to say something but then claps it shut just as quickly. Draco thinks back to when he was near inconsolable about not being able to fix the vanishing cabinet back in sixth year. Pansy would wrap him up in his bed covers and apply a pressure charm. The same should work for Harry. So Draco leads him upstairs and pushes him down onto the sofa. He tucks and folds every blanket he can find around Harry and then casts the necessary charm work to make them a little tighter. He struggles at first, but then Draco is petting his hair and humming a tune. He can tell the moment Harry gives in and lets the feelings calm him.

“I’ll take care of everything, don’t you worry,” Draco assures him. “I’ll send Amos those crates and it will be just fine.”

Harry’s eyelids start to droop and just before he nods off he whispers, “Thank you.”

Draco is reluctant to leave his side, but he has to if he wants to do what he promised. He fire calls the Burrow and asks Molly to come over and get Cedric’s old belongings (he and Harry don’t have an owl or he would do it himself). Molly starts to fret over Harry’s prone form until Draco promises her that he has it under control. That doesn’t stop her from demanding that she cook them dinner, and Draco needs the distraction of helping.

Elara and Teddy come downstairs holding hands and they are thrilled to see Molly! Elara tells her all about their new brooms and Teddy’s burst of accidental magic and the secret basement Draco didn’t know about. Molly takes them into the kitchen and sets them up with easy tasks to help. She hands Draco a cold, wet cloth and gently pushes him back out of the room.

Harry is exactly where he left him so he sets the compress on his forehead and crouches on the edge of the sofa. He summons his book from across the room and settles in to read, but the words just swirl around the page. Draco isn’t dim; he knows why Harry got so upset, but Harry’s come to him with nightmares before and this is different.

“Draco?” Harry moans softly.

He sets down his book and leans close. “I’m here. What do you need?”

“Just don’t want to be alone.”

Knowing it’s surely gone warm by now, Draco refolds the cloth before setting it back down. It’s cliché but he thinks of his mother. She refused to let the elves tend to him when he was ill, insisting that it was her job to take care of him. He wonders if Harry’s muggle family did the same thing for him.

A soft hand touches his shoulder and Molly says, “Teddy is asking for you. I can sit with Harry while you eat.”

Draco thanks her and- reluctantly- relinquishes his seat. He knows that Molly’s cooking is delicious as it ever is, but he doesn’t really taste it as it goes down.

Just as they’re finishing up dinner, Fleur arrives. She kisses Draco on the cheeks and hugs the children. Then she asks them, “‘ow about a zleepover?”

“I’m not sure…” Draco worries because he hasn’t spent a single night apart from Elara since she came to live with them. Now that he thinks of it, the same can be said for Teddy and he knows that Harry is just as protective as he is.

Fleur is hearing none of it. She tells Draco not to worry and to just watch over Harry for her. (She also reminds him that she and Bill are parents and are only a floo away if necessary.)  Elara is making those big, puppy dog eyes and Teddy is just excited because she’s excited. How can he say no to that?

Molly sets the dishes to clean and dry themselves and Fleur gets knapsacks around for Teddy and Elara. Meanwhile, Draco feels his control slipping away and he’s helpless to do anything about it. And before he can blink they’re all gone with little more than a hug and a ‘see you in the morning’.

Draco makes sure that his charge is still sleeping despite the comings and goings before heading upstairs and readying himself for bed. He has a strict skincare regimen, followed by the careful manicuring of teeth and nails, and finally he dons his pyjamas. Harry likes to casually drape himself about the house in nothing but a pair of flannel sleep bottoms, but Draco prefers his matching sets of silk pyjamas- this time in black. He wraps his dressing gown about himself and then plods down to the sitting room to find a promising sight.

“Hiya,” Harry greets as he rubs at his face. He’s sitting up and his glasses are setting on his blanket-clad lap. “The kids asleep already?” He looks down at his watch in confusion. “Isn’t it sort of early?”

Draco sits in the chair across from the sofa. “Fleur took them for a sleepover.”

“You seem surprisingly calm about it.”

“Yes, well, when Weasley women get together and plot behind your back there’s little one can do to stop them.”

“Where’s the lie?”

Both men share a laugh. Draco’s glad he’s gotten to the point where he can poke fun at the Weasleys and he understands that it’s all in jest.

“Do you want anything to eat? Molly left extras.”

Harry smiles at the kind gesture. “She’s rubbing off on you, you know.”

Draco hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “Yes, well, maybe it you weren’t so scrawny I wouldn’t feel the need to offer.”

“Now if only she could teach you how to cook.”

“Do you think she would?” The question is out of Draco's mouth before he can stop it. He tries to cover his enthusiasm by making excuses but Harry can see right through them.

“Trust me. She’d love to.” Then Harry folds his arms across himself in sudden indignation. “And I’m not scrawny! Not anymore, at least.”

“Trust me, I know.” At this point Draco is considering just spelling his mouth shut.

Mercifully, Harry chooses not to comment. He does, however, try to apologize for his episode earlier. “I think it hits me so strongly because Cedric was the first. I honestly forgot he even lived here, that we bought the house from them. I mean, we painted and decorated and it’s not like I’d ever been in it while they were living here. But when I saw his things…” Harry’s voice gets pinched and he chokes back a sob. “I just…I always thought people got killed for a reason. My mum and dad were killed because they were protecting me. The Order was killed fighting in battle. But Cedric…he was just…killed.”

Draco has never understood something so wholly. “Professor Burbage,” he says with no other explanation.

Yet, Harry seems to know. He nods. “Exactly. They just…were…and then they…weren’t. He was a really good person and a brilliant seeker and everyone in Hufflepuff loved him, but Voldemort called him a ‘spare’ like he was nothing but a piece of rubbish. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. I’ll never stop seeing his face. All of their faces.”

The annual memorial service for the Battle of Hogwarts is coming up in a few weeks. Draco’s seen the requests that arrive via owl nearly every day for Harry to come and speak. He hasn’t brought it up but now he has to. “Do you plan on attending the memorial?”

“Pfft! I did the first year and I got sick all over the main stage. It was horrible. Everywhere I looked I was reminded of everyone who died. The people who attended were either openly weeping or trying to get my autograph. Ron got Neville to sneak me out before I went completely mental. He took me to the Leaky and we-” He snaps his mouth closed and looks anywhere but at Draco.

He’s confused for all of five seconds before he takes in the embarrassed look on Harry’s face and is able to put two and two together. “Please tell me you did not shag Longbottom!”

“We were just fooling around! Trying to keep our minds off of things!”

“Have you no other hobbies?!” At least this has lightened their conversation. “I can’t believe it; first the dragon-Weasley and now Longbottom. Is there anyone else you’ve deemed worthy of _distracting_ you?”

“Erm, well…Ginny, back in her heteronormative phase. Lisa, but don’t bring it up around the Children’s Centre as she’s always been afraid it would compromise her job there. You’ve already met Lucas. And there was the time where Hannah was dead set on setting me up with Hufflepuffs, like Ben McEwan and Lina Tande.”

Draco’s sorry he asked. But not so sorry as to keep from wondering, “Is there anyone now?”

“Why do you keep trying to push me off onto other people?”

“I-I’m not!” Draco stammers. He’s confused, isn’t that what Harry wants? He should be enjoying the clearly abundant sex life he once had before Draco came along and chained him down. “I just think you should be allowed to, if you want.”

“So you keep saying, but what if I don’t ‘want’ what you think I want?”

His mouth is suddenly dry. He desperately licks his lips and croaks out, “And what do you want?”

“If you have to ask, you’ll never know.” Harry winks and stands. He stretches out his back and walks towards the stairs without another look back, leaving Draco staring after him.


	14. Chapter 14

“Harry, what’s wrong with Draco?” Elara asks with concern in her voice.

Harry peeks his head around the corner but doesn’t see him anywhere. “What’s he doing?”

“Day’co walk walk walk walk walk walk walk,” Teddy answers, stomping around the room in an impression of his cousin.

That’s what Harry was afraid of. Draco’s been pacing a hole in the floor ever since Blaise wrote him back and agreed to come over for a visit. He looks outside and sees him mumbling to himself as he stalks back and forth across the garden. Harry figures he would be happy to reunite with his friend but it seems his nerves are getting the better of him.

“Do you remember me telling you that Draco is going to have someone over?” The kids both nod. “He hasn’t seen him in a long time and he’s just nervous.”

“Wha’s neu’vus?”

Asking what words mean is Teddy’s new favourite thing. His incessant questioning would drive lesser men mad, but Harry revels in it. He loves how inquisitive his godson is and how much he’s learning. Remus and Tonks would be so proud.

“It just means he’s a little scared.”

“Day’co’s f’end sca’wy?”

Even during the worst times at Hogwarts, Harry would never have considered Blaise scary. He was actually quite entertaining during their Slug Club meetings by making jokes under his breath at Slughorn’s expense. And unlike Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy, Blaise never followed Draco around like a lost crup. He has a mind of his own and a quiet personality that Harry can respect.

“No, he’s not scary. But sometimes grown-ups get scared about little things that don’t make much sense.”

“G’own-ups si’ly,” Teddy declares with a scrunched up nose.

Harry can only laugh at his honest assessment of adults. “Right you are, little wolf.”

“Owoooooo!”

It’s startling how accurate his howl is and- not for the first time- Harry wonders if the healers were wrong about his bloodline. He’s done his research. He knows there’s a possibility that the lycanthropy gene can remain dormant throughout childhood and present itself during puberty. Good gods. He’s going to have to raise a teenager through puberty. _Two of them_ , if Draco and Elara haven’t left by then.

Harry doesn’t like thinking about that.

“Elara, why don’t we make some treats for Draco and Blaise so they have something to snack on?”

“And I can help?”

He could probably get her to do anything if he rewarded her with the privilege of baking. He hopes she’s always this easy to please. “Absolutely! Who else would tell me there’s not enough chocolate?”

* * *

Draco hasn’t felt like this in months. He’s gotten too used to the safety and security of his new life, and he’s worried about bringing in this part of his old life. They met a few years before Hogwarts when Lucius found out that Blaise’s first step-father owned a profitable business, and Lucius was never one to turn down a good business opportunity. Draco liked that Blaise was smart and calm like a proper pureblood boy should be. Vince and Gregory, by comparison, only liked to wrestle and yell.

They’ve been through so much, he and Blaise, but years have passed and Draco’s afraid things won’t be the same now.

He hears the far-off crack of someone apparating to the edge of their wards and stops pacing. Sweat rolls down his back as the unmistakable, tall, thin frame of his friend comes into view. He wipes his hands on the legs of his trousers but it does nothing to stop the dampness of his palms.

Draco almost considers turning tail and running. Harry would cover for him, for sure, but then Blaise is only a few steps away and he can’t stop himself from darting forward to close the distance between them.

“Oof!” Blaise gets the air knocked out of him as Draco squeezes him tightly. He recovers and with a chuckle says, “Since when did you become a hugger?”

Draco laughs too and tells him to, “Blame Potter.”

They pull apart from one another and Blaise takes an appraising look around. “I like the hair. And you’ve got yourself a nice place here. Can’t say I’m surprised, however.”

“How do you mean?”

“You always did prefer the grounds of the Malfoy estate more than the actual Manor. And at Hogwarts, Pans and I could hardly pull you into the castle before curfew.”

Draco has fond memories of sitting out at the Black Lake for hours, just reading or working on assignments. It was his refuge long before things went wrong. “We have a lake,” he blurts out.

Blaise gives him a warm smile, obviously remembering the same times. “That’s good. You seem happy; relaxed. I suppose I have Potter to blame for that as well.”

“He’s to blame for a lot of things.” He looks over his shoulder to the house and then back to Blaise. “There’s a reason why we got married.”

“Obviously,” he says with a shrug. “You’ve been in love with him since you were a child.”

Draco’s face flushes bright pink. “What! I! Pfft!” he splutters. “That’s not-” not what? Not true? He can’t say that. “That’s not the _point_. He doesn’t think of me that way. He only did it so I could adopt my sister.”

That has the smile sliding off Blaise’s face. “Your…what?”

“Sister. You know, a female sibling relation.”

“I know the definition of the word, you prat, but since when have you had sister?”

This is going to take some time. Sighing, Draco suggests they go someplace where they can sit and repose. He leads Blaise through over a few hills to where their property opens out onto the small lake. They sit on the wooden dock, take off their socks and shoes, roll up the legs of their trousers, and let their feet dangle into the water like children. The mollifying effect is almost immediate.

“It all started after my prison sentence concluded,” Draco begins. “Minister Shacklebolt suggested I help improve my public standing by volunteering at the HJ Potter Children’s Centre. I was initially hesitant, but I grew to love it. I began working with a group of at-risk teenagers on adjusting to life and processing what we went through. They had proper counselors and mind healers but they couldn’t relate to them on the same level that I could. I still meet up with them once a week over the summer hols, but they’re adjusting so well now that it’s more of a social call than anything.”

“Is that where you found your sister?”

Draco kicks his foot to splash Blaise with water. “Stop jumping ahead! I’m getting to that. But yes. I met her and I didn’t know at the time who she was, yet we bonded. I brought home a photograph and Mother saw it and-” he makes an audible gagging noise. He’s been living the happy part of the story for so long that he forgot how it started.

“I’m sorry about your mum,” Blaise says quietly. He reaches out a hand to comfort him but Draco pulls away. All of the loneliness and abandonment he felt in those first days after her memorial come rushing back.

“Why didn’t you come?” he asks, a single tear escaping down his cheek.

“I don’t know. Not at first. And then too much time passed and the gesture felt empty.”

His answer is as blunt as it is honest, and somehow Draco can’t fault him for that. How were any of them surviving with so much pain in their hearts? He slides over on the dock until he’s right next to Blaise, then sets his head on his shoulder.

Blaise wraps his arm around Draco’s back to support him. “This isn’t an excuse, but you know about my step-fathers. Everyone blames my mother for their deaths but she’s mourned each and every one of them. And you were there for me every single time. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should have been there.” He gives a squeeze and then realizes, “Is that where Potter comes in?”

Draco nods. “Lovegood, too. Did you know she’s a Potions Master?”

“Absurd.”

“Don’t I know it. I was working with her up until recently. Now- Merlin help me- I think I’m going to ask to apprentice under Slughorn.”

“He’s a nightmare.”

“No one else will want to work with me. He’s my only option.”

Blaise pushes him away, but only so he can look at him directly. “Tell me the truth; are things as bad as the papers say?”

Draco buries his face in his hands and mumbles, “Yes.”

“You were really attacked in Diagon?”

Another, “Yes,” and then he turns his face just enough to risk a glance at Blaise. He can’t help but be pleased to find him angry on his behalf.

“That’s rubbish! You paid your dues! You should not be made to hide for the rest of your life simply to make them feel better about themselves!”

“I like it here,” Draco assures him.

“So do I, but I also like shopping. Don’t give me that look, I know my mother was a bad influence on me. My point is…as beautiful as your home is, you should be able to leave if you want.”

“I go places.”

“Like where?”

“The Burrow.”

“The what?”

“It’s the ridiculous name of the Weasley’s residence.”

Draco realizes his mistake as soon as it flies out of his mouth. It’s like a switch flips. Blaise’s face lights up with instant delight.

“The Weasleys? As in, the ginger family you mocked for years? You leave the safety of your own home to go to theirs?” He starts cackling in amusement. “Let me guess, you’ve changed your last name as well so now you’re well and truly one of them!”

He doubles over with laughter at his own ‘wit’ and Draco seriously considers shoving him into the lake. He has his hands ready and everything but then he hears his name being shouted from just over the nearest hill, the two sources unmistakable.

“Draaaaaacooooo! We have biiiiiscuuiiits!” Elara calls, like he’s some unruly crup that needs to pay enough attention to obey a command.

“Daaaaaay’cooooo!” Teddy mimics.

Not wanting to have to explain why he pushed Blaise into the water, he settles on smacking his arm in hopes to get him to calm down before they arrive.

The kids come bounding over the hill and towards the dock at an alarming speed. Draco pulls his feet out of the water and opens his arms for them to run into. He’s secretly pleased at the alarm that flashes across Blaise’s face.

Elara slams into him first, with Teddy crashing in right behind her. Draco hugs them both and then before he can even introduce them to his friend, Teddy speaks.

“Dee!” He shouts, pointing at Blaise.

Draco is mortified in the way only a caregiver can be when their child says something embarrassing. “No,” he corrects firmly, “That’s not Dean.”

“Dee b’own,” says with a tone of obviousness.

And, okay, he’s not wrong, but he can’t go around thinking every tall, thin man with dark brown skin is the same. “You’re right, but he’s still not Dean. This my friend Blaise.”

“Not sca’wy.”

Seriously, what is wrong with this kid today? “Of course he’s not.”

That’s when Harry laughs from the other end of the dock. He fills them in on his conversation with Teddy earlier. Then he approaches Blaise, who stands, and the two men greet each other formally. Harry picks up Teddy and swings him up onto his hip. “This is Edward Lupin, my godson and not a racist. We recently saw Dean Thomas for haircuts- and he’s someone Teddy’s seen often- so he made the comparison. Though I have to admit, at first glance you two do bear a striking resemblance.”

Not for the first time, Draco’s glad to have Harry there to think on his toes. He always handles surprise situations with greater tact.

Blaise just brushes it all off. “Don’t worry about it. Thomas is rather good looking, so I won’t complain.”

Harry laughs at his joke and Draco feels like he’s fallen into some sort of alternate universe. Thankfully, he’s kept from appearing too socially inept by Elara, who tugs on his sleeve and points at Blaise. Draco jumps to his feet and hefts Elara up (a feat that grows more difficult the older she gets but he won’t be giving it up anytime soon).

“Blaise, I’d like you to meet my sister. Elara.”

Elara sticks out her little hand to shake his, and Blaise makes a show of bowing and kissing the back of it. She giggles and he winks at her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Elara,” he drawls. “What is this I hear about biscuits?”

“They’re back in the kitchen. I wanted to bring them out here, but Harry said if we left them at the house then you’d have to spend more time with Draco.”

Draco thinks that if he tries hard enough he could turn into a liquid and just melt into the ground. Blaise, on the other hand, just laughs it off again. “I hardly need a bribe to stay, but I certainly wouldn’t say no to a good biscuit and tea.”

“Let’s go!” She wiggles down from Draco’s arms and takes Blaise by the hand, who doesn’t hesitate to be led away by the girl.

Harry and Teddy follow behind them with Draco bringing up the rear.

* * *

Blaise stands by his word and stays for tea. Then he stays so long that it’s time for dinner and so he stays for that as well. Harry refuses to let him help clean and instead sends him and Draco to talk some more. They relax on the sofa while Elara reads to the Teddy on the other side of the room.

“So,” Blaise begins, “You and Potter.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “I believe we’ve already established this. That’s not why we’re together.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he declares emphatically. “Unequivocally yes.”

“Suit yourself.”

He squints at Blaise and hates himself a little bit for asking, “Why do you say that?”

“I just think, from purely an outside perspective, your pining may not be as unrequited as you think.”

Draco thinks back to two weeks ago, when Harry revealed all the people he’d shagged but then admitted that wasn’t what he wanted anymore. Could Blaise be right? Could _he_ be what Potter was referring to when he said, _‘what if I don’t ‘want’ what you think I want?’_ and then left Draco sitting alone in the dark?

He doesn’t let himself dare to imagine.

“Forget about it,” Draco says finally. “What about you? Are you seeing someone?”

Blaise is like Harry. He doesn’t have a preference, man or woman. If they’re willing then so is he. He gets this dreamy expression and says, “Actually, yes. His name is Malcolm Baddock and we’ve been together over a year.”

“Tell me about him!”

“Well, he’s got a babyface, but his body is so fit. He’s a bit of a twunk, really.”

“What is the hell is a ‘twunk’?”

“A twinky hunk.”

“Of course.” Only Blaise. There’s nothing for Draco to do but laugh. But then he gets serious and asks, “He’s good to you?”

“Yeah, he is. He works in business marketing. He’s a muggle and he knows I’m not.” Upon Draco’s shocked look, he adds, “I didn’t tell him straightaway, but he’s got a cousin who’s a witch and a blabbermouth so their whole family knows about magic.”

“But…the Statute…”

“Is rubbish. The world is a different place than we were taught, Draco. Loads of people are opening up about their identity- gay, magical, what have you- and they’re finding places where they can be accepted for who they are.”

“It must be nice,” he says bitterly. Yet, he immediately thinks about their impromptu trip to Perth. In Australia nobody recognized him in the streets, not even in the wizarding sectors. He thought he liked the anonymity but in reality he liked the inclusion.

He’s been telling himself he’s okay with staying at home but that’s not entirely true. He wants to live life to the fullest. He wants to take Elara for ice cream at Fortescue’s. He wants to go to the Quidditch matches with Arthur sans his glamours and disguises. He wants to brew potions under a competent Potions Master, and maybe even open his own apothecary in the future. He wants it all. And he says as much.

“I want that, but the world doesn’t seem to want me.”  
“Forget the world. You have a family and friends who want you. I’m going to do a better job at being your friend, I promise, and I’ll prove to you how much you belong.”

They share a hug (without the cheeky comments from Blaise this time), as Harry eavesdrops from the kitchen. He’s more determined than ever to show Draco how he feels.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit there's a lot going on here. Just go with it :)

Draco likes to think himself calmer than the average Quidditch fanatic. But the day the Wimbourne Wasps are playing the Holyhead Harpies brings out a side of him that he thought long since buried. It reminds him of the Slytherin vs Gryffindor matches back at school.

He and Arthur have been going to the matches together all season, but today presents a curious predicament. Arthur wants to support Ginny yet he’s not about to cheer for the opposing team. Draco has no such qualms.

A few days before the match, they agree to sell their usual tickets and spend the extra galleons to buy out an entire box so all of their family and friends can join them. Besides the Weasleys, Blaise and Malcolm are there- a fact which greatly pleases Draco- as are Neville and Hannah. Draco is less pleased are the latter, but Hannah thought to bring along enough Hufflepuff gear to share (seeing as their colors are very similar to Wimbourne) and he figures he can’t fault her for the sins of her boyfriend. Longbottom, on the other hand…

He gets fed up with Draco’s glaring after the first five minutes and pulls him to the side to growl out, “What is your problem, Malfoy?”

Draco folds his arms protectively over his chest and pinches his lips closed. He’s not about to admit he’s jealous. But it must read across his face plain as day because Neville lowers his voice even further and hisses, “Let me guess; Harry told you.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re referring to,” Draco says haughtily, looking over his shoulder as though it’s not eating him up inside.

“Can it, Malfoy. I know you’re lying. And I’m going to be a nice chap and not make you admit it out loud.” Draco raises an eyebrow but otherwise gives no indication he knows what he’s talking about. Neville has to laugh at how ridiculous he’s being. “I can’t believe I have to tell you that it meant nothing! I mean, Harry’s good looking but we just fumbled around a bit and that was it.” He blushes then and ducks his head. “I feel bad because that’s actually what made me realize Hannah was the one for me, but don’t go telling Harry. Can’t be good for a bloke’s ego to turn another man straight.”

Damn. Draco was hoping he could hate Longbottom forever. And since when has he had such a sense of humor? He gives the auror’s frame a onceover, and he can appreciate the way he’s grown into his body. There’s still a bit of pudge on his middle- though not in an unappealing way- and his shoulders are wide and muscled. His sandy blonde hair is styled and his face is sporting a bit of scruff, giving him a more mature look than he had at Hogwarts. Draco concedes that he can see why Longbottom’s been named Witch Weekly’s ‘Most Handsome Bachelor’ more than once.

He finally unfolds his arms and says, “Fine. Consider yourself off the hook.”

“Cheers, mate,” Neville quips dryly, rolling his eyes as he walks back to over to Hannah.

Harry slides up next to Draco and asks, “What was all that about?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles. Then he puts on what he believes to be his most charming smile and turns it on Harry. “Did you see Luna’s headdress? I think she’s finally outdone herself.”

“She’s always been one of a kind, that’s for sure.” Harry wraps an arm around Draco’s waist and pulls him in to his side. His head fits neatly on Draco’s shoulder and he doesn’t hesitate to lean it there. “Thanks for doing this. I like having everyone together.”

“Me too.” Draco’s finally starting to get used to this loud, pieced-together type of family. He watches his sister play with her ‘cousins’ and his friends conversing with Harry’s and he hopes that days like these never go away. It’s what his life should have been like all along.

* * *

The Harpies lose, and though Ginny is upset at first her attitude changes when she sees everyone who came to watch. Her smile is honest as it stretches from one ear to the other. She can’t believe George is out of his flat, or that Ron and Hermione came all the way in from Australia. She kisses Luna despite her hilarious getup and then asks the team photographer for a family portrait.

Draco doesn’t miss the way Arthur’s face clouds over for a moment. At first, he contributes it to the loss of Fred but then he realizes something much worse. He forces himself to smile through the picture and keep the question burning in his mind until they’re back home.

After many hugs and waves and good-byes, they apparate to their house and put the already-snoozing children down for bed (thank goodness for exciting outings). As soon as the doors are shut and they’re finally alone, Draco questions Harry about the Weasley they were missing today.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks in a vague attempt at avoiding the uncomfortable topic.

“You know, the one who was Head Boy and strutted around like he owned the castle. Where is he?”

“Draco.”

“Harry.”

“The answer’s not that simple.”

 “Is he being hospitalized?”

“No.”

“Is he dead?”

“No!”

“Then why haven’t I met him? Why has he not been at any family get-togethers? Why do none of the others even _talk_ about him??”

Harry scrubs his hands down his face and growls in frustration. “His name is Percy, and it’s complicated.”

“I’m bright. I think I can handle it.”

Harry sighs and throws himself face first onto the sofa. Draco sits on the wingback chair and crosses his legs neatly, just waiting for Harry to get himself together.

It takes a few minutes but then he leans up, turns to Draco, and asks, “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Why else would I bring it up?”

And so Harry proceeds to tell him all about Percy’s tumultuous past with his family. He starts with Percy’s hunger for power as far back as his time at Hogwarts. Then he talks about Percy’s blind ambition and following of the Ministry, the twins’ increasing jabs about his loyalty, and the final straw of coming home for Christmas only to be run out amidst a food fight.

Draco listens without interruption, though he can’t help but pick up on the similarities between himself and this wayward Weasley. Yet he can’t seem to blend the people that he knows now with the family that would discard a member of their own. “They’ve forgiven me for the awful things I did. Why can’t they extend the same to Percy?”

“They sort of did. Percy quit his job at the Ministry and came back to fight in the final battle. But then Fred was killed. He ran away that night and nobody’s seen him since.”

“Nobody?” Harry is suddenly avoiding eye contact so Draco knows he’s hiding something “Potter. Do you know where he is?”

“Not…exactly…”

Draco kneels down next to the sofa so he can hover over Harry. “Tell me.”

“Look, I promised-”

“Well that was stupid.”

“Draco! Why are you pushing this? Sometimes, people just can’t be saved.”

That’s not what he wants to hear. He bites out, “If that were true, then I wouldn’t be here right now and you know it.” He storms upstairs, wishing he could slam his door for dramatic effect but not following through due to the napping children on either side of his room.

Dinner that night is full of tension that Teddy and Elara thankfully don’t pick up on. Elara asks to fly her broom afterwards and Draco immediately volunteers Harry. He just wants to be alone right now and cleaning will be the perfect solitary assignment.

Before Harry goes outside with the kids, he sets a folded piece of parchment down. “Just…don’t make me regret this,” he says cryptically, and then he’s gone.

Washing dishes by hand is therapeutic. Draco takes out his frustration in a safe manner while being productive at the same time. When everything is set to dry, he picks up the scrap of parchment that Harry left him. He wants to throw it away but his curiosity wins out in the end. He opens it and finds two lines: Oliver Wood, Appleby Meadows.

* * *

Draco carefully loads wooden crates with all of the potions he’s been brewing. There’s everything from Pepper-Up to Skelle-Grow and he plans on delivering them to the various healers he’s contracted to. When Luna left him to pursue her research he was sure that they would all refuse to continue doing business with just him, but he’s been pleasantly surprised to find that to not be the case. He didn’t lose a single client, though one did ask for a discount (which Draco was able to haggle down to a reasonable amount).

He can’t shrink the crates- lest he risk the stability of the potions within- but he is at least able to cast a _feather-light charm_ so that they’re easier to carry. Draco hopes that no one will be in the kitchen but those hopes are dashed when he approaches the top of the staircase and can hear voices. Regardless, he keeps his head down and thinks he may still have a chance to get out without anyone saying anything.

“Day’co bye-bye?”

Clearly, he should not continue to press his luck. Draco stops and leans his back against the door, propping the crates up on his hip. “Yes, Teddy, I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?” Harry asks.

Draco looks at him like he’s crazy and jiggles the crates lightly so that the phials clang together for emphasis. “I’ve potions to deliver.”

“Uh huh,” Harry says with an unconvinced nod. “We’ll see you in a bit, then?”

“Of course,” Draco answers with an overly big smile, trying for nonchalance.

He’s not lying. Sort of. He fully plans on making his deliveries. But then he also fully plans on making a trip to Appleby to hunt down Oliver Wood afterward. Draco knows this is not a great idea. That doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway. And he has the sneaking suspicion that Harry knows exactly what he’s about to do.

* * *

Appleby Meadows is a beautiful muggle neighbourhood that runs alongside a golf course. The homes are large and the gardens immaculately kept. This is clearly an area of great affluence, which would make sense considering Oliver Wood’s fame. (He may have started as a reserve for Puddlemere United, but he quickly became a house hold name and is considered one of the greatest Keepers in the history of the team.)

Harry never gave him an address, so Draco follows the lane around the neighbourhood and tries to look for clues as to which house is the right one. He may not know much about automobiles, but the ones he sees certainly seem fancy as they gleam in the afternoon sun. And that’s when he notices a single property without one. Upon second glance, it seems to be without a lot of things.

The gardens aren’t overgrown but neither are they filled with the colorful flowers or shaped shrubs that seem to be in abundance on either side of it. The windows have no drapes or sheers- yet nothing can be seen within. Add to that the lack of car and anyone else would just think the house to be uninhabited. But it makes Draco pause and consider that this just might be the place he’s looking for.

He summons all of the Gryffindor bravery he does not have- but secretly hopes has transferred from Harry to himself via close contact- and strides up to the front door. There’s no knocker so he raps his knuckles on the door, hoping it’s loud enough to hear.

There’s muffled laughter and then Draco hears a man’s voice as they presumably walk closer saying, “I’ll get it. It’s probably just Helene asking for that recipe again.”

The door swings open and Draco finds himself face-to-face not with the Irish Keeper, but instead with the very Weasley he’s trying to hunt down. He can’t believe his good fortune! He smiles and opens his mouth to speak, but before even a single word slips out Percy is staggering backwards.

He slams against the foyer wall, fingers winding through his hair, mumbling and curling inwards on himself. Oliver runs in to find him like that with Draco standing over him in the doorway.

“What did you do to him?!” Oliver yells, pulling Percy away.

Draco holds up his hands in defense. “Nothing! I swear it!”

He either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t want to, because one second Draco is standing in the open doorway and the next he’s passing out thanks to the jinx fired from Oliver’s wand.

* * *

Draco can hear voices before anything else. There’s definitely more than one, and they’re whispering so he can’t make out what they’re saying. He decides to assess his surroundings in an attempt to determine if he’s currently in any danger. As slowly as possible as not to draw attention to himself, Draco cracks an eye open and looks around. He’s lying on an overstuffed sofa in a sun-soaked living room.

He dares to open his other eye and seek out the source of the voices. Unfortunately, he looks the wrong way and they seem him before he sees them.

An amused chuckle fills his ears. “Oi, Malfoy’s awake now.”

“Longbottom,” Draco sighs. He attempts to sit up but falls back, groaning at the effort. “What did Wood do to me?”

“We checked you over and there’ll be no lasting damage,” Neville assures him. “It was less from the hex hitting you and more from your head hitting the floor.”

“Well this went pair shaped quickly.”

Oliver, who has been hiding behind the auror up until this point, leans around his shoulder and apologizes. “I’m sorry. For hexing you and for calling in the aurors. I haven’t heard Perce like that in a long time, and then I saw you, and…sorry.”

Draco nods but immediately whimpers at the motion. “I had only good intentions,” he says around a cringe. “I didn’t even know he was here.”

“I know that _now_. I firecalled Harry. He told me that he is not your caretaker and therefore is not in charge of what you do. He also told me I should hear you out.”

“I’ll let the two of you get to it, then.” Neville claps him on the back and then gives Draco a wave before he steps through the floo to head back to the Ministry.

Oliver steps out of the room but returns just a moment later with a bag of ice. Two cups of tea float behind him. He offers Draco first the ice for his head and then the tea for everything else (let’s face it, there’s not much in this world that can’t be solved by a good cuppa). Then he bypasses the furniture in favor of sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Just so you know, Harry betrayed all sorts of confidences by telling you to come here.”

Draco knew this was going to be tough, so he bites back a snarky response and instead says, “I understand, but go easy on him. I can be quite persistent when I want something. Potter never stood a chance.”

That gets a smirk out of Oliver, at least. “I suppose I am at least a little to blame. I always encouraged his obsession with you because it made him a better Seeker. Just never figured it would extend beyond the Quidditch pitch.” He drains his cup before asking, “Now what was so important you had to show up unannounced?”

This is a bit tougher now that the Weasley is here, but Draco doesn’t have any choice but to go for it. “I want to know why Percy and his family are not speaking.”

“That’s his personal business.”

“I respect that. I do. It’s just a shame that both sides have stopped all attempts to reconcile. And after everything that the Weasleys have done for me- which you can be assured is _not_ something I say lightly- I just have to try everything I can to get them back together.”

Oliver nods along with everything he says. “Do you know what happened the last time Percy made an effort?”

“Harry said something about an eventful dinner.”

“They drove him from his home! That was the last time he stepped foot in that place!”

“I know, but-”

“And then he _still_ decides that they’re worth it! He showed up to fight beside them, dueling his own boss in the process, and after the dust settled they never came looking for him! Not even once! All he had was me.” Much quieter Oliver adds, “Perce was in a bad place for a long time, but he’s doing better now and I’m not about to let you show up and send him into a tailspin. I refuse.”

The room rings with the weight of his words and Draco can relate. He had no one before Harry, Luna, and the Weasleys. Now he also has Elara and Teddy and Blaise. But that’s why he feels so strongly about getting this family back together. “You saved him.”

“What? No. I just gave him a place to live when he had nowhere else to go.”

“That’s not true. I wouldn’t be here right now if Harry hadn’t stepped in and you’re doing the same for Percy.”

Oliver pinches his eyes shut but a tear slides slowly down his cheek nonetheless. He can’t lie and say he doesn’t want the Weasleys to welcome their son home with open arms; he’s just afraid of watching his heart get broken again. “I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll speak with him and let him know what you said.”

“That’s all I ask.” Draco finishes his tea and slowly stands up. His head still smarts but he has a pain-relief potion at home that he can take. He thanks Oliver and floos back home.

* * *

A few weeks go by and life returns to normal. They prepare Elara for the start of primary school (she’ll be attending the local muggle school). Draco interviews with Potions Masters that are seeking apprentices. Harry chooses to take on a more hands-on role at the Children’s Centre.

With everyone so busy, Molly helps out by watching Teddy and Elara a few days a week.

Elara is walking into the kitchen when she sees one hand on the family clock start to whirl around rapidly. “Grandma Molly? Your clock is broken.”

She chuckles and walks over, knowing that it probably just means someone is on the move again. But the laughter dies in her throat when she sees _which_ hand is spinning. “Arthur?!” she shouts for him. “ARTHUR!!!!”

Three things happen at once: Draco steps in through the floo to collect the children, Arthur walks quickly into the room to respond to Molly’s panic, and a knock sounds at the back door.

Molly gasps and her hands fly up to her mouth.

“What’s going on?” Draco asks at the odd sense of tension in the room.

Arthur shrugs and walks to the door. The door swings open slowly and his hand drops back down to his side. Draco can’t see Arthur’s face but he does see his body posture go stock still.

“Hullo, Dad. Mum.”

Arthur jumps into action, pulling Percy inside. He throws one arm around him and the other around his wife. “My son,” he starts to sob into his hair. “My boy.”

Draco takes a moment to beam at the beautiful display of affection, then he takes Teddy and Elara to the floo. They don’t really understand what’s happening but the promise of pizza distracts them enough to get them back home. He gets so caught up in making dinner, however, that he forgets to floo call the centre and leave a message for Harry, who goes to the Burrow as planned.

No one would ever accuse Harry of being graceful during floo travel, but his arrival this time could wake the dead. Draco is checking to make sure he’s alright when Harry launches himself at Draco. He leans up on his toes and proceeds to kiss him with everything he has. Draco is frozen in place the entire time, though it does little to slow Harry down. He pulls away with a pop of his lips and looks up at Draco as though he hung the moon.

“Not that I’m complaining, Potter, but what was that for?”

“What was it _for_? Draco, you are so infuriating sometimes!” He punctuates his frustration with a punch to Draco’s chest.

He bats Harry’s hand away. “Stop that! It was an understandable question.”

“Do you truly not know what you did today? You brought their family back together. Even when you were told to leave it well enough alone, your stubborn arse wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Draco smiles fondly down at him. “I just kept thinking: what would Harry do?”

“Now who has the hero complex?”

So maybe he is turning into a bit of a savior in his own right. Draco doesn’t mind. All he cares about is getting his lips back on Potter’s and actually participating this time. He runs a hand through Harry’s wild locks before pulling him in by the back of his head and snogging him breathless.

Only the sound of giggling makes them stop. Harry pulls away and rests his head on Draco’s shoulder with a chuckle. Draco, on the other hand, is miffed to have finally gotten to kiss Potter only to be interrupted. He cuts a glare at the offenders but that only makes them giggle more.

He’ll probably regret that they don’t take him seriously when they’re moody teenagers, but for now he loves that they find the joy in his teasing. “Go eat your pizza, brats.” He hisses in mock anger.

Elara and Teddy scamper off, but they’re still giggling so no harm done. Draco tilts Harry’s head up by the chin in hopes they can pick up where they left off.

Harry stops him, however. “Not that I wouldn’t love to continue kissing you but I’m hungry, and you make edible food now, so let’s go eat. As a family.”

Draco lets himself be pulled into the kitchen, more than happy to postpone for the sake of their family. They have all the time in the world (and children go to bed early).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the end now!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! I THOUGHT I ALREADY POSTED THIS! I went to approve a comment and realized I never posted the final chapter of this fic! Sorry if you've been waiting. It's super fluffy time jump/epilogue of sorts (because I'm a sap and end most of my stories like that).

**10 years later…**

“Budge over, Potter.”

“Shut it, Malfoy, there’s not exactly an abundance of space under here.”

“Well maybe if your fat head wasn’t taking up so much space-”

“Shhh! It’s starting!”

Draco pinches his lips together as they watch Professor Flitwick bring out the tattered, old hat and set it upon the wooden stool before the whole school. The hat sits still for a moment before straightening itself out and clearing its throat (for lack of a better word). It begins its jaunty song about the positive attributes from all four houses and the importance of inter-house unity. But Harry isn’t looking at the hat. He’s looking across the student tables at all of his family.

Victoire is at the Ravenclaw table, boys and books already surrounding her; Teddy is sitting cross-legged on the far bench of the Slytherin table, his hair the bright teal he favours most days; Neville and Hannah’s adopted daughter, Joslene, sits next to him; and Elara sits as close as she can at the Hufflepuff table to keep an eye on the two troublemakers. She gives a little wave at Draco and Harry, aware that they are hiding where they do every year someone they know gets sorted.

Harry jumps at her recognition. “Did you tell Elara?” he accuses.

“No!” Draco hisses back.

“Neither of you are as subtle as you think you are.” McGonagall’s voice startles the men.

They jump and the cloak starts to slip off. Harry manages to catch it and hold it tightly around them. He shuffles so he and Draco are facing her instead of the Hall, and then reveals his face so he can speak more clearly.

“How long have you known?” he whispers.

She looks down her nose at them and they may as well be eleven-year-olds again. “Your father and Mister Black would often sneak around under that cloak. They made the mistake of entering my office once.”

“How did you know?” Harry asks. “It would have made them invisible.”

“If one knows what to look for, it’s quite simple.”

“Sirius did something, didn’t he?”

She laughs soundlessly, as not to draw unwanted attention their way. “You do know your godfather. He couldn’t resist trying to scare me.”

“Dominique Weasley,” the Flitwick calls up last.

Draco elbows Harry and turns them back around to watch the sorting. In a whisper, Harry promises to meet up with McGonagall for tea once the term gets started and then focuses back on the action up front.

“Final bets?” Draco asks.

“Bill says Gryffindor, but he says that every time and he’s wrong every time. Fleur says Gryffindor, which holds slightly more impact. I think Dom will ask for Hufflepuff, but I don’t know what the hat will say.”

Draco nods. “She’ll want to be with Elara, but she’s a lion for sure.”

“You think?”

No sooner have the words left Harry’s mouth that the sorting hat declares, “Gryffindor!”

It’s not surprising that a raucous cheer sounds from the table adorned in gold and red. Weasleys have quite the history in Gryffindor, and Dominique is so much like her father and uncles (and aunt) that there’s no doubt she’ll fit right in.

Harry and Draco join the students and staff in singing the Hogwarts song before making a hasty retreat from the Great Hall. It’s difficult to move quickly under the cover of the invisibility cloak, and they shed it as soon as they are clear of the castle doors. Draco stashes it in the pocket of his robes and then takes Harry’s hand in his own as they make their way across the grounds.

Their fingers wind together automatically and he can’t help but smile. Some days it still doesn’t seem real, that Potter chose him.

“You’re doing it again,” Harry says.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me as though I’m going to suddenly bolt. I’ve told you before; I’m not going anywhere.”

Draco wants to deny it but he’s not a liar. “You could though,” he mumbles.

“And you could decide that my personal baggage isn’t worth it.”

“Never.”

Harry stops their forward progress and forces Draco to look at him. “See? You love me. And I love you.” He punctuates the sentiment with a peck on the lips (they are still within sight of the castle after all). “It doesn’t matter how long it took us to get here; we’re here how and I don’t intend on giving you up for anything. Now, let’s get a move on. We have to go to the Ministry to pick up our portkey.”

Draco can’t resist kissing him once more before they start walking again. “Tell me again why Granger is okay with us arriving in the early hours of the morning?”

“She said that Rose has been sleep-reversing, or something like that. No matter the name, it means she sleeps all day and is awake all night. It’s driving them mad but it makes the time difference between them and us easier at least.”

“Right. Blame the devil spawn.”

“Draco!”

* * *

Ron yawns, cheek pressed against his palm and elbow pressed into the kitchen table. His jaw remains slack even after the yawn has passed. He knows he needs to keep them open but his eyelids start to slide closed against his will.

The doorbell chimes and Ron jerks awake too quickly. His head smacks against the table and the only thing that keeps him from cursing up a storm is the giggling of his daughter, reminding him of why he’s up in the middle of the night in the first place.

Ron picks her up and nearly jogs to the door, ripping it open and sighing in relief. “Thank fu…dge you’re here!” He thrusts his daughter into Harry’s arms and even pats Draco on the shoulder he’s so happy. “I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me unless it’s an emergency. Actually, strike that. Wake Hermione.”

Then he turns around and walks to the back of the house and into their master suite.

“Nice to see you again!” Harry shouts after his best friend. Two fingers appear around the door grame before they’re gone again and Harry starts cackling. “Are you still sad you missed the infant years?” he asks Draco as they enter the house and shut the door behind them.

“I’m sure Elara would have stuck to her sleeping schedule. Malfoys are particularly good sleepers.”

And isn’t that the truth. Harry spent the entire summer practically dragging her out of bed each morning (or, more accurately, each afternoon). Not to mention Draco himself! Ever since he handed over the day-to-day operations of his apothecary to his apprentices, he’s taken to sleeping in later and later.

“Ron was that the door?” Hermione asks as she wanders down from the staircase without looking up from her stack of papers. Her hair is huge and her clothes rumpled, making it obvious that she is just as lacking in sleep as her husband. “Ron?” She _does_ look up then. “Oh! Good, Draco, you’re here!” She grabs him by the arm and hauls him back up the steps with her, already going on about her research.

Harry stands in the center of the kitchen with his goddaughter in his arms. “What shall we do Rosie?” She lets out a squeal in response, making him laugh. “As much fun as that seems, I think perhaps we should go do something quietly. Your dad is knackered and your mum…well, your mum stole my husband.”

Rose gurgles, drool bubbles forming at the corners of her mouth. Harry wipes it away using one of the many spit rags that are littered throughout the house (an essential for any family with a baby) and carries her into the living room where there are piles of toys and books. He settles her down onto a plush blanket and Rose curls her legs up and reaches for her toes, shoving them into her mouth with gusto. Harry laughs and quickly takes out his cellular phone so he can snap a picture. He’ll send it to Ron tomorrow.

He reads Rosie a few books as she gums on her toes, but that soon turns into stories of his own. He remembers Draco telling him years ago that he should write his stories down and maybe he will. Their adventures could fill a dozen books.

He’s halfway through the tale of Hermione setting Snape’s robes on fire when he smells something awful. Ah, the joys of nappies. Having two teenagers in the house can be frustrating at times but at least they can use the loo on their own. He cleans her up and they play some more until she starts fussing.

Harry digs around in the kitchen for what he needs to get a bottle around for her. He knows that she is old enough to be eating some foods, but not wanting to bother her parents he settles on some formula for now. She greedily drinks it down and her eyes start to droop. A sleepy baby makes Harry sleepy as well, so he lies down on the sofa with Rosie tucked up against his chest. He casts cushioning charms all around them and then lets the warm, slow, rise and fall of the baby’s form to lull him to sleep.

* * *

“ROSE!” Harry shouts and jerks up as he feels her slip from his arms.

“Shhh, Harry, I’ve got her,” Draco pushes him gently back down with one hand as the other clutches the small Weasley. “Granger finally crashed so I came to relieve you of baby duty. I didn’t think I’d wake you up when I took her.”

“It’s fine,” Harry assures him as he rubs at his eyes.

“I’m going to go put her down in the nursery. Do you want to stay sleeping here or come up to the guest room? It’s still set up from the last time we were here.”

Harry nods and sleepily trails after Draco. Rose makes disgruntled huffing noises as he gently lowers her into the cot, but she eventually settles. Harry changes into his pyjamas and is already snoring as his face hits the pillow. Draco rolls his eyes fondly. He wants to talk to him but it can wait until morning.

* * *

The next time Harry wakes up it’s to little hands slapping at his face.

“No, no, sweetheart. Uncle Harry is sleeping.”

Harry rolls over and smiles at his little Rosie. “What’s she doing in here with us?” he asks Draco, though not in an accusing or mean way.

“Apparently that was just a little nap. She is very much awake now.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

“I’m fine.” His words are betrayed by a poorly timed yawn.

Harry chuckles and says, “My turn. I’ll take her.”

He sits up and is about to swing his legs off the bed when Draco says, “Wait. Can we talk first?”

“Sure…” Harry settles back against the headboard. After the things Draco said at Hogwarts the night before, he’s not sure what this is about. He hides his uncertainty by picking up Rose and helping her little legs bounce on the bed.

“I think,” Draco stops and clears his throat, “I think I’m going to stay here for a bit.”

That’s not so bad. Harry nods his head in agreement, “That’s a good idea. Ron and Hermione could really use the help right now with Rosie and-”

“No. I mean, yes, they definitely need some help parenting, but that’s not why I’m staying.”

“Alright. Then why?”

“Granger’s made a breakthrough. She’s been working with neurologists about the possibilities of healing neuropathways and restoring memories. She thinks they’re on to something, but they need a little magic to make it work and that’s where my potions expertise comes in. She also as a master in charms work coming in. This could be it, Potter, and I want to help.”

Harry is all smiles. If what they’re doing works then Hermione could get her parents back. Teddy could get Andromeda back! “You have to do it,” he says simply.

“That eager to get rid of me?” Draco teases.

“No! But I understand this is something you have to do and I support you.”

“And what will you do?”

“I was hoping to come too. I wasn’t kidding about them needing help. I love little our little Miss Rosie, but she definitely needs to get back on a normal sleep cycle.”

“What of your work at the Children’s Centre?”

“They’ll do fine until I return.”

“What of my shop?”

“Ask Luna. I’m sure she’ll help you out for a while.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“You bet.” Harry kisses him on the cheek and then moves to stand with Rose. “Now get some sleep. We’ll be downstairs.”

* * *

**18 months later…**

Harry holds Teddy’s hand as they walk into the ward they’ve frequented for over a decade. They know all of the mediwitches by name and they greet them as they pass. The room at the end of the hall is open, with brightly colored flowers on the visible on the side table just inside the door.

“Now, Ted. You remember what I told you, right?”

“You said the same thing you always say, to not get my hopes up.”

His tone is full of sarcasm, which often plagues the teenager, but Harry is just glad he was listening. “Good. I know Draco said things have been going well but the brain is fickle and sometimes there’s just nothing that can be done.”

Teddy sighs heavily. “I knooooow, Harry.”

“Fine. Fine.”

They stop just outside the door and wait for Draco. He steps out just a moment later and wordlessly summons Teddy inside. Harry releases his hand and nervously watches them walk back in.

“Has she gotten her memories back?” Elara asks quietly from his other side.

Harry sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Draco said she’s still having good days and bad days but that she usually knows who he is. She started asking for Teddy recently and that’s why we’re here.”

“And it makes you nervous that today could be a bad day.”

Elara has always been quite perceptive. Harry feels so lucky to have watched her grow up and gotten to be a part of her life. “Infinitely so.”

She gives him a hug and Harry gratefully returns it. To pass the time, he asks her about her courses and how she feels about leaving Hogwarts in six months. She still doesn’t know what she wants to do after school (with talk of a gap year) and she knows she’s going to miss her friends, but she is looking forward to being done with her NEWTs soon.

Draco steps out of the room for a second time with tears in his eyes but a smile on his face. “Elara,” he says with a watery voice. “Come in and meet your aunt.”

Harry follows them both inside and has the foresight to take his phone from his pocket and turn on the camera to record a video.

Andromeda is currently embracing Teddy in a tight hug but she looks up when they walk in. She takes one look at Elara and gasps. Her eyes dart from Draco to his sister and back again. “She looks just like Cissy.”

Draco nods. “That’s what I thought the first time I saw her as well. This is my sister Elara. Elara, this is our mother’s sister Andromeda.”

Elara runs to her and puts her arms around both Andi and Teddy. Harry ends the filming and drags Draco over so they can join in on the group hug, too.

“Thank you,” Andromeda whispers. “Thank you, Draco, for giving me my family.”

“We were always here,” he says with a shrug. “We were just a little lost.”

“Not anymore.” She kisses the heads of Teddy and Elara and, after all these years, things finally feel right.

Draco feels a squeeze on his arm and looks over to see Harry gazing at him so warmly and full of love that it nearly stops his heart. He’s glad they got married, even though it was just to adopt Elara. He’s glad they stayed together after the adoption was complete. And he’s glad that he let Harry into his heart. Draco knows he would truly be lost without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and commented! I moderate comments so I see each and every one and I so so so appreciate them all. It's just been a really busy start to the school year and I haven't had a chance to reply to any of them (but that does not mean they go unnoticed). Thank you again for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.


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